


Fight or Flight

by RainKiss



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Cussing, Gen, More than two fandoms, Mystery half solved, NOT Stiles centric, Pack Dynamics, Road Trip, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-07-26 10:49:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7571338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainKiss/pseuds/RainKiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Annabeth and Percy’s road trip post senior year is interrupted when they find a body on the bypass outside a sleepy little town. Turns out, Beacon Hills is not what they expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bypass

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing from the TV show, Teen Wolf. Its characters belong to the cast and crew as does the characters of Percy Jackson to Riordan. Any copyright infringement is unintended and may be reported to me.
> 
> Notes: TW - Set during the summer before season 3, before the Alpha pack arrives in Beacon Hills. Erica and Boyd haven’t run away. Jackson hasn’t left for London. Canon up to after season 2.  
> PJO – Set after BOO. Annabeth and Percy have finished high school.

It was Annabeth’s turn to take over the wheel. Percy gave a yawn and stretched in his seat, blinking sleepily, ready to nod off. He turned to look at his girlfriend with half closed eyes. She was humming a song. They were on a long road trip through the country, from the East coast to the West. It was almost done with. They’d reach LA in within the month, if they wouldn’t have to stop every hour to admire the freedom and scenery.

The last year of high school had been quite the drainer. Percy had decided to finish up his education and think about college while Annabeth already started with the application forms. But after a long discussion about what they wanted, the pair had decided to take a break from it all (and seriously, Annabeth wasn’t done with rebuilding Olympus. That mountain is huge.)

Many were all for it. Some were afraid, but c’mon, guys! It’s Percy and Annabeth! They’ll be together. Don’t worry about it.  
It would have been more fun with the entire gang. But most were a year younger and were already trying for part-time jobs and internships before their final year. It was surreal to be reminded that at eighteen, the hero couple were some of the oldest demigods in their generation barring those who lived in New Rome. Surreal and depressing.

No other time like the present. A long journey across the US was just what the doctor ordered. It was nauseous inducing at first, but when they got the rhythm going, Annabeth would crank up the radio and Percy would belt out the lyrics in a rib cracking fashion. They were eighteen and free and flying.

“We’re not stopping?” Percy asked, when he woke up from a power nap. The sun was setting and he’d rather not travel at night during deserted hours.

“I’m good.” Annabeth reassured him. “We can reach the end of the highway by midnight. There’s a hotel there and since we passed by the last one –”

“The last one was beyond spooky and you know it.”

“Yeah, I’m not arguing. But you were tired and we could have at least parked next to the diner.”

Percy shook his head. It had been too seedy a motel to want to stop at. His instinct to run flared up sharply when he had seen the place. Annabeth was nearly asleep when they’d crossed that place, so she hadn’t picked up on the haunting vibes of the place.

Annabeth sighed. Their nerves were too strained. The allure of the road trip had diminished once they crossed the midway point. Now the couple were just tired and wanted to get it over with. Whoever said that get away rides were totes romantic and perfect had taken poetic license to the extreme.

“I wanted to reach the next county by tomorrow. We’re already extending the dates, did you know that?”

“Nope. I don’t think it matters, though. It’s still vacations. We survived the desert in the summer. We’re awesome. I’m gonna kiss you.”  
Annabeth couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face when he leaned to press his lips sweetly to her cheek. Her spirits soared and she pressed her foot on the accelerator in tandem.

“Whoa, Wise Girl. Turn down the heat.” Percy teased poking her shoulder and turning back to the road.

Barely an hour later, Annabeth found something strange. There was a dark figure sprawled by the side of the empty stretch of road. The skies were already purple and her low beam zoned in on the person lying half way on the cement.

“Oh my gods. Percy! Percy, over there!”

Percy started, one hand already going for Riptide when he spotted what she was pointing at. “Is that... is he dead?”

Annabeth hesitated for a second before slowing down. It was dangerous to stop on an empty road. What if it was a trap? What if there were bandits or thugs - monsters – ready to jump them?

“He’s not breathing!” Percy said, opening his door in a flash, Riptide in pen form. He was ready for an attack, eyes scanning the area.

Annabeth kept the engine running as she got out and stood by her door, watching his back.

The boy had bled out. Part of the road was covered in a dark stain. He was lying on his front, head turned to the side in his last attempt to breathe before he had succumbed. His eyes stared blankly ahead. Percy inhaled sharply.

“Is he dead?” Annabeth whispered. The guy looked younger than them.

Percy kneeled down and touched a cold and sticky wrist. He bent his head to look at the pale unmoving face. And then his gaze fell below. Against the thin brown shirt, there were large blood splatters because of the slash on his neck. 

Percy stood up immediately uncapping his pen which switched into a gleaming, three feet sword, ready for an ambush. Annabeth wordlessly got out her own sword and shield, searching around them for anything out of place.

“Claw marks.” Percy explained. Annabeth pressed her lips together. Had the boy been a demigod? A mortal? Whoever he’d been he had run into a monster and met a grisly fate. She felt a surge of anger and sadness but it was dwarfed by her own need for safety and Percy’s wellbeing.

“I think we should leave.”

Percy flinched. “I don’t want to leave him here.”

“What if the monster’s still out there? What if he was bait for someone else?”

“What about his family?”

Annabeth felt ashamed but frowned just as well. The smart thing to do would be to get away. They hadn’t been attacked yet. Was the culprit waiting? Why would it do that? 

“It must have left. Annabeth, he’s just a kid. The least we can do is get him home.” Percy’s voice was soft but his words hit her and she knew she was being too cold with reason and experience.

“Al...alright. I’ll call 911.”

She reached for her phone, praying that the monster had left the minimum range so that it wouldn’t be enticed to come back due to the cell signal. Percy bent down to the teen and placed a palm over the face to close the eyes. Maybe it had been an animal attack. Nothing to do with the supernatural. Just a wild cat or a wolf that had felt threatened.  
Percy arranged the boy’s shirt collar to a neater fashion, when he thought he heard a sound and looked up. Across the road was an expanse of woodland. The setting sun had cast long shadows from the trees to hide the forest and the only thing visible was a pair of glowing blue eyes through the thickness. Percy raised his sword threateningly. Only a god would dare approach an enraged demigod.

The eyes blinked and faded away. Definitely supernatural, Percy thought as Annabeth relayed their location to the officer on the line.  
.....

It was a slow day at the Sheriff’s station. After the previous month’s string of animal attacks and the slaughter of four officers at the station, things had died down considerably except for the occasional domestic violence call or mugging. Beacon Hills was quiet and Deputy Tara wasn’t sure whether it was good or the eye of a storm.  
The latest case they’d looked into was an accidental death in a basement when a falling shelf had knocked out a man and killed him. It was tragic but clear, not warranting much investigation. She remembered when she had to talk to the man’s wife and son, the latter hadn’t been able to stop sniffling while his mother had been stoic and red eyed through the interview.

Tara was nearly done with the paperwork when the desk phone rang and she realized that it was the civilian emergency line. She pushed away her file and picked up the receiver, “911, what’s your emergency?”

“I... there’s a boy lying on the road. I think he’s dead. There’s a lot of blood and ... my boyfriend and I were in the car when we saw him so we pulled over...”

Tara grimaced at the news and raised her hand to signal Haigh in the next booth. He looked up from finishing off a donut and was already standing to check if his service weapon was loaded and ready in case he needed it. Tara shook her head and pointed at another phone – a direct line to the emergency unit at the hospital.

“Okay, miss. Do you know where you are?”

“Yes. Yes, we’re on the highway... wait, bypass beside the main town of the county. Er... Beacon...”

“Beacon Hills Bypass.” Tara clarified.

“Yes.” The girl’s voice relaxed slightly from the high pitch strain it had had earlier. “We passed the sign ten minutes before we found him.”

“Alright. We’ll be tracing this call for the purpose of tracking. Stay on the line until an ambulance reaches you. I’d like you to check if the boy is breathing. Are you or your boyfriend hurt?” 

“No. We’re fine. But the guy’s not breathing and Percy can’t find a pulse. His hand’s cold to touch and it looks like he’s been this way for a while. He says that there’s a lot of blood that’s already drying on the road. We think he stumbled out of the forest a few hours ago.”

Tara frowned hoping it wasn’t another animal attack. Beacon Hills hadn’t recovered from the last string of manslaughter and murder patterns.

She kept talking to calm the girl down until she received confirmation that the ambulance had reached them.

The Sheriff walked in as she put the receiver down. “Just got a distress call about a body on the bypass. It sounds like another animal attack to me.”

He winced at the news and ran a hand over his face. “And things were just going quiet... What did the M.E. say?”

“Haigh went to meet up with them. He’ll call back in a minute. A couple found the teenager bled out. They think he ran from the forest, from whatever was chasing him and collapsed on the road.”

Tara saw a tired look on the Sheriff’s face. “When was this?”

“Just now. I got the 911 call a few minutes ago.”

“Right. Call me if I’m needed. I haven’t had dinner yet.”

“Everything okay?” Tara asked concerned. She knew that the Sheriff had argued with Stiles in the morning about cases and privacies. His son had tried to pester about the domestic accidental death case that they’d just closed.

“Yes. It’s fine. I just called Stiles and he wasn’t picking up. Neither was Scott. And I know they’re up to something again and if it has to do with what’s happening now, I’m going to lock ‘em up in custody.”

Tara sighed, exasperated. Scott and Stiles were always up to something. She remembered a hot summer when two eight year olds rushed into the station, one particularly dull afternoon which turned less dull when they started firing their water pistols. They’d spent the morning in a very quiet and hushed meeting planning the thing.She missed having them over. They reminded her of her sister’s children and how she’d like to have some one day. Maybe she’d invite the station for an outdoor barbeque. Social gatherings were good for the soul.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she almost didn’t hear the Sheriff’s mug falling off his desk and hitting the ground, the ceramic shattering into a thousand pieces.

Tara looked up in surprise. So did the other few officers who were at their desks. The Sheriff was standing, pale and shaking, his phone pressed into the side of his head. Whatever the person on the other end of the line was telling him, it wasn’t good news. She got up, unadvisedly leaving her post and went in the office. Stilinski stood in shock, staring into space as he listened in silence.

“Sheriff, what’s wrong?” She asked. She heard her colleagues stand behind her, staring at their boss.

She could almost see something break in his eyes. The hand holding the cell phone went slack and it slipped though the Sheriff’s fingers. Tara reached out and caught it before it hit the desk.

“... so sorry, John. But we need you here to...”

Tara held the phone to her ear, recognizing the voice and spoke, “Haigh? What is it? What did you tell the Sheriff? He doesn’t look good.”

Haigh was quiet for two seconds and then said in a low voice, “Tara, the 911 call. The body those two kids found? It’s Stiles.”  
.....


	2. Ephemeral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Slight swearing, mild descriptions of violence.

It’d been nearly a month into the summer when Scott felt like he could break into pieces. The stress of the year’s misadventures would hit him at odd times. It felt as though he’d been running on a continuous burst of adrenaline ever since he was bitten but as of late, the rush seemed to leave him as exhaustion hit him hard.

Their latest source of stress had been the exams. Scott had scraped by and had vowed to be an accomplished student in the coming year. May it would work, may be it wouldn’t. But he was going to try his best and he’d be damned if he let the supernatural interfere with his school life again.

Scott McCall was damned.

He hadn’t talked to Allison in a while. He knew she was planning to leave for France with her father during the vacations. They had promised each other to not have any contact through the summer. If they were breaking up, they had to do it properly and move on not mope about. But Scott felt that he would rather mope than try to get over her, because it was impossible and painful to get over your first crush, your first love, your first everything and how did people do this, how did they survive this?

His relationship with his mother was strained as well. But he kept hoping for the best. She knew that her son was a werewolf and this caused awkward breakfast and dinner conversations about the weather but it was still better than throbbing silence that used to extend between them when Melissa was trying to adapt to the fact that yes, her son is a werewolf, deal with it.

Scott noticed that she seemed to be picking up more shifts at the hospital than before. Usually, she’d try to cut down during holidays to spend a few vital days with him, binge watching some or the other TV shows. They weren’t the outdoorsy mother-son team, but they could quote Disney shows, few years past their prime.

While he was upset about her trying to subtly avoid him, he knew that this was her way of coping with the revelation and he was willing to give her the space. It was easier than giving Allison space. Maybe, it was because in the back of his mind, Scott believed that his mother would truly never turn him away. She was shocked and scared but she had to know that he wouldn’t hurt her. He wouldn’t be a monster. Even if he’d lost his anchor, he would never willingly be a monster. Not if it meant losing his mother.

So he’d spent the evening, making grilled cheese and spinach sandwich for her as one of the many peace offerings he’d been giving her for weeks. They never failed to bring a smile on her face.

Scott walked to the bus stop, feeling tired from the days’ routines. He’d been working extra hours at Deaton’s to save up money. His goal – a new dirt bike he’d seen at the local store. It was a bit above his budget, but he was determined to get it. His mother had been horrified at the idea at first. Stiles was all for it. (As long as I won’t have to drive your ass all over town for the next big rave of a monster looking forwards to eat us up...)

He reached the hospital at sunset and jostled the paper bag carefully, pushing open the door for an elderly couple to move ahead of him. He smiled at them and headed straight for the reception.

Melissa usually worked at the desk for two hours, updating patients’ details in the log around this time, but she wasn’t there at the moment. There didn’t seem to be an emergency, so he asked an orderly.

“Hillary? Scott said, leaning over the desk to look at the short woman seated in front of the screen. “Where’s my mom?”

The new staff member looked up in surprise. “She left her post a while back. She got a call and nearly flew down to the morgue. It sounded personal.”

Scott stared at her for a second before the coarse bite of dread crept into his chest. Morgue, personal. He swallowed and took off to the silent confinement downstairs without another word.

The moon would be full in a couple of days, so maybe that’s why he was tense – hyper-vigilant, even. His insides twisted and untwisted. Sweat gathered around his temples, below his hair and on the back of his neck. He held the paper bag tightly, speed walking past the other nurses, nearly rushing towards his destination.

Something was very wrong. He unconsciously sniffed at the air. His mother, one of the deputies from the station, a doctor... Carey?... Dr. Carey and Stiles.

No. Not Stiles. It smelt like him but there was something about the scent...

Scott froze thirty feet from the doors. He could hear only three heartbeats from the morgue. 

_Dried blood. Torn skin. A scream that had been squashed while it was on its way out. Knees hitting the ground. Fangs dragging him into the woods. Nails scratching at the dirt. Claws slashing at his ankles, at his throat, at his life._

Scott saw red. He gained momentum and barged in through the doors, startling the three live occupants but having eyes only for the body under the sheet wearing the face of his friend.

He shot forwards, disbelief flooding him; a sense of being choked filled his lungs. “No. No, Stiles!”

“Scott.” Melissa’s voice broke. She was pleading, holding out her hands and wishing for him to back away because the deputy and the doctor didn’t know the secret... a secret which Scott didn’t care for anymore because his best friend was dead and cold as the metal table he was on.

“Stiles!” Scott yelled, almost roared, his eyes nearly changing color, but his mother pushed at him, blocking him from the others in the room. 

Blinding rage hit him. He was going to hunt that wolf down, the wolf that had done this... tear them apart, like they deserved. They would be the prey after what they’d done. 

“Scott! No! Wait – Scott! Listen!”

“HE’S DEAD! HE’S FUCKING DEAD!”

“I know!” She yelled. She seemed terrified and he realized that she was afraid of him. He could feel his canines extending past his lips, ready to rip anything out, strong enough to drag a person across the ground, no matter how much they fought.

A monster.

He reeled back. Something had slapped him. Was it his mother? Was it the whole situation crashing down on him?

Stiles was dead.

Scott’s knees trembled and Melissa caught him, guiding outside the morgue and helping him sit down. Her dinner was half crushed in his fist. The world spun and Scot clutched his head, feeling himself heave. He needed Stiles back. He wanted to run away and never look back. To throw up. To kill the murderer. To scream. To roar. To howl at the moon for cursing people in this world to turn into monsters, mindless and predatory, killers for the blood lust and nothing else.

He sobbed and felt familiar arms around him. Arms that should have comforted him, but all it did now was remind him how broken he was.  
.....

Percy’s knees bounced. He never had the patience to wait. Hospitals were nerve-wracking but police stations were probably worse. The officer at the scene had recognized the boy as the Sheriff’s son. He’d told them to give their full statements at the station.

The mortals believed that it was an animal attack, but Percy and Annabeth knew better. He’d seen the shining blue eyes, glowing with an unnatural light. It had been dark, but he’d been able to spot that. Some kind of monster was killing kids for the hell of it.

Annabeth reached for his hand and squeezed it. He barely jumped at the contact and leaned into her. They were in the small lounge of the Sheriff’s department, right outside the office. Officers were rushing about, busy with paperwork and the news that seemed to have hit all of them. Percy couldn’t imagine how they felt, having to investigate the murder of someone they knew.

One of the deputies walked in. She had a passive face as though she was bottling up everything in her. Percy wanted to flinch at the raw emotion in her eyes. It looked too painful. He felt the urge to apologize even though he knew it had nothing to do with him. 

“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting. We’ve already recorded your conversation on the emergency call. This is just formality.” She said, her voice carefully void of hurt.

Percy’s throat felt dry. Annabeth seemed to know that and said, “Yes, of course. We understand.”

“Good. You’ll need to write down your statements separately, for verification. You won’t be recorded for this.”

Percy wrote down the incident as briefly as possible. He pressed the pen nib sharply against the paper as he signed at the line indicated. He wasn’t a writer. He couldn’t put emotions on paper. He’d never be able to relay what it felt like finding someone, who was supposed to have a long life, dead. No matter how many times he’d witnessed his friends, his family, fall on the battle field, every loss hit him hard. No one would understand unless they’d experienced it as well.

“You don’t want to leave.” Annabeth whispered, not questioning. She already knew what Percy had decided.

“What if it was a monster waiting for us? For a demigod? It went after a mortal who had no right to lose his life. We shouldn’t run away. We have to do something.” He urged her.

Annabeth grimaced and squeezed his hand. Percy wrapped an arm around and tucked her under his chin. He could feel her indecision again. She wanted to be safe. There was nothing wrong with that but guilt was eating away on his insides and he had to do something.

“We’re in this together.” Annabeth said. She sounded braver. She always sounded more confident when she had decided on a path.

Percy kissed her chastely. 

Their statements were submitted and they were shown the way out. 

“It’s quite dark now. Are you sure you want to keep driving through the night?” One of the officers asked, looking genuinely concerned.

Percy and Annabeth shared a look before she answered, “We were planning on staying at a motel for the night.”

“I can recommend something nearby, if that’s alright?”

“Yes, please.”

Annabeth noted down the names of a few rest stops when a car pulled in messily at the parking lot. A teenage boy stepped out, not older than Percy. He had a faded jeans jacket pulled on haphazardly, his hair wild enough to match the pure distressed persona he was exuding. He strode up to them with an anxious air.

“You found him, right? You were the ones who found Stiles?”

Percy tried not to back away from the frantic words. Annabeth nodded.

“You have to tell me exactly where the place is. Was it near the graffiti sign section? Or past the highway? Was there anything strange about him? Did he leave a clue? A hint? Did he say anything to you?”

Annabeth stepped back towards Percy. The boy sounded reasonably deranged.

“Are you his friend?” She asked softly.

The boy stared at her, pain radiating from his body. Percy could nearly empathize with him. There was something very vulnerable about the situation. A reminder of how delicate mortal life was and how everything could be lost within the blink of an eye.

“He’s my brother.” The boy whispered. He looked ready to break down. “He... did he tell you anything before... before he...?”

Percy couldn’t do this. He couldn’t face them. Anyone of the people who knew the boy they’d found. He couldn’t handle that.

Annabeth held Percy’s hand tightly and whispered, “I’m sorry. He was already gone when we found him.”

Her words seemed to slap the boy. As though finally saying it out loud cemented it as a fact.

“I’m sorry.” She said again like she couldn’t help it.

He reeled back and then steeled himself, “Where did you find him?”

Annabeth had exhausted her words for the encounter and Percy took over, his voice low and strained, “On the bypass, south of the town. We passed a bunch of signs with graffiti all over them.”

The boy nodded at the pair and then gave a quick glance towards the station. “Thank you. Thank you for bringing him.” He turned and ran inside the building. Percy let out a long breath that he’d been holding.

“Did you see that?”

He looked at her, still recovering from the conversation. “What d’you mean?”

“There was something about him.... I’m not really sure what, but something about him tipped me off.” She said, sounding unsure. 

The conversation had only solidified their decision to stay and find the monster.


	3. Alpha

Derek honestly never expected to have Scott call him and mumble about how Stiles was dead. It was a sharp and bitter pain that lanced though his being. He wasn’t too close with the boy, but a character like Stiles wasn’t expected to just be killed. He understood Scott’s desperation and fury. He could hear it in the words.

“… this couple found him on the road… on the bypass…. beside the preserve… there were claw marks…. Is it a new monster? Another werewolf? Why would they do that? It shouldn’t have happened to him? Stiles is not a threat! Why would they hurt him? Why would they…”

The voice had trailed out, hiccups and sobs echoing through the line. Derek squeezed the phone and heard it crackle before it crumbled into pieces in his grip, disconnecting the call. He threw the remains against the wall. Isaac was on the couch, filled with disbelief and shock. He had heard the call and barely flinched when the phone smashed against the wall.

“Isaac.” Derek growled. The beta stiffened and got up, not even thinking about what he was doing. Derek grabbed his shoulders to steady him. “Isaac! Listen carefully, meet up with Erica and Boyd. Make rounds and check in on Lydia and Danny. Call Allison if you have to. Make sure the Argents know about this. If Jackson is willing, bring him in. Can you do that?”

Isaac took a shaky breath and nodded. He kept his eyes on the ground and Derek, not thinking twice about it, squeezed his shoulders to calm him down. His heart was beating wildly, blood pumping. He was ready to run miles through the forest to calm himself down, to find the wolf that did it, because while he might have not been close to Stiles like Scott had been, he’d been pack. He was a trusted friend and Derek could feel the misery run through his veins, through the fragmented pack bonds as everyone found out what happened.

“Okay.” Isaac whispered. He inhaled again, trying to ground himself, but his eyes kept flickering gold. Derek gave him a job so that he wouldn’t run out of control and shift.

“Go now. I’ll call Peter, see if he knows anything.”

Isaac stared. “Peter? Your undead uncle? Will he care? Does it matter?”

“Peter’ll always have something to say. There’s that.”

……

Annabeth was already on an IM with Chiron. When Percy heard the conversation steer into ‘not-our-territory,’ he sprang out of bed.

“What d’you mean – not our problem? A kid died, Chiron. We can’t not do anything!”

The centaur looked sad but he said in a strong voice. “There are rules to all things supernatural, Percy. I know how you feel about this, but crossing lines is dangerous especially when we don’t know the facts. Be glad that the mortals haven’t considered you as suspects. You have a chance to escape –”

“No.” Percy said. Annabeth looked like she wanted to play mediator. 

“Maybe we can stay in town. It would be more polite. The Sheriff may want to talk to us. If he can get some closure, I’m for it.”

Percy wanted to kiss her but Chiron interrupted. “I’m worried about your safety. You of all heroes know that other kinds of creatures exist. Creatures that do not come under our region. Respect isn’t just the question here.”

“Chiron, that was a kid. He was younger than us. What if it was a Greek monster?”

“Unlikely.”

“But we’re close to ‘Cisco!” Percy argued. “It could have been.”

Chiron seemed to know when to throw in the towel. He sounded defeated. “If I can’t convince you, may I ask something else?”

They nodded. Percy squeezed Annabeth’s hand, leaning in. He remembered the strange blue eyes that were unearthly and highly non-mortal. Something was going on in this town and they’d find out what it was.

“Beacon Hills has a growing reputation for supernatural notoriety. If you decide to stay, just keep in mind, it may not work out the way you plan.”

Annabeth and Percy shared startled looks. “Whadya mean ‘growing reputation?’ There’s been stuff like this happening since before us?”

Chiron looked a little fatigued by the topic. “You need to understand this. This is not our territory. We have other problems to deal with. For your best interest, I recommend you to continue your journey to San Francisco.”

“But –”

“Unfortunately, I also know how stubborn you can be.” Chiron sighed with resignation. Percy almost smiled.

“We could just… look around.” Annabeth suggested. “There’s definitely something odd here. When we confirm that it wasn’t a Greek monster, then we leave. Right, Percy?”

“Uh… yeah! Once we confirm! If it’s like that, yeah.”

Their mentor nodded. Annabeth swiped her hand through the mist. The IM dissipated and Percy leaned back on the bed. She joined him and they cuddled for a minute.

It was one thing to encounter a large strange crocodile in Manhattan, especially after it had swallowed up a boy (who was still alive after the end of it.) Annabeth had a similar run in with a girl who was not a demigod, but wasn’t exactly fazed by the unnaturalness of everything that had happened. 

It was a whole other thing to see the fatal consequence of a monster roaming unchecked. Percy swallowed, turning on his side to stare at Annabeth. She looked deep in thought.

“Are you regretting?” He whispered.

She shook her head, pushing him onto his back and kissing him soundly.

“Never with you.”

…..

Derek couldn’t find Peter. That in itself was terrifying. He rubbed a hand over his face in frustration and left the apartment, heading back to his car. As if things weren’t dire enough. He knew that Erica and Boyd were planning to leave. Beacon Hills had been too much for them, especially after being in close quarters with Gerard. Derek didn’t blame them. He wanted to leave too. May be if he were a better Alpha, situation wouldn’t be so grim.

It was no use to grumble. That wouldn’t solve anything. Derek clutched the steering wheel tight, trying to clear his mind. Right. Stiles was dead. Claw marks. He’d need to get a scent from the body. He’d have to go to the hospital. 

He should have done that in the first place. Derek swore and started the car. He nearly crashed into a teenager who jumped in from of him.

“What the – Scott!”

To say that Scott looked enraged and out of control was a mild understatement. His eyes were gold and his fists were clenched. Derek could smell the anxiety and wrath leaking off of him in waves.

“Where is he?” Scott demanded. Derek turned off the engine and got out of the car. There weren’t many people around them, but Scott wasn’t doing anyone any favours by drawing attention.

“You need to calm down.”

“Shut up. Just – shut up! Where’s Peter? He isn’t here! I know he has something to do with this!”

“Scott –”

“I smelt him.” Scott’s voice went into a hiss. “I smelt him on Stiles. Where is he?!”

“Not here. I was going to go to the hospital to search for clues. But I haven’t seen Peter in a few days.”

“And you didn’t think that was important?” Scott was yelling now. “Peter’s always up to something!”

“I know!” Derek shouted. “But you need to calm down, right now Scott!”

There was a brief moment of tense silence that was filled with deep breaths. Derek clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder to steady the boy. It was painful. He could sense the hurt, radiating up his arm. The loss hit him harder now.

“We’ll find Peter. We’ll get answers. I’ll help. Isaac’s already gone to check in on the others.” Derek said, trying to find the Alpha instinct that should help. But Scott had never considered him as leader. It wouldn’t be easy. 

They got into the car and drove back to the hospital. The crowd around the place went on their usual business. They were oblivious to the fact that supernatural crap went down every other day. Derek took off his seatbelt but Scott didn’t move.

“I… I can’t go there. I can’t.”

Understandable. But Derek wasn’t willing to let him sit in his car and brood and stew. He looked towards the entrance and then back at Scott. “Call your mother. Tell her that I’m looking in on Stiles. And if she sees anything strange happening, tell her to call you or the Argents.”

Scott looked up, shocked that Derek was willingly talking about the Argents. He swallowed hastily and nodded.

“After that, check around the hospital for any scents that stand out. If you catch Peter’s or actually see him, do not engage with him. He might be physically weaker, but he’ll have a dozen tricks up his sleeve. Do you understand me?”

Scott looked sour but nodded stiffly.

Derek exited the car and walked briskly to Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. It was a sunny day but his mood was sombre and he could still taste the acrid tang of sorrow mixed with anger and need for revenge churning around Scott. He hoped that the boy wouldn’t do anything stupid and would stick to the order, but wasn’t banking much on it.

Melissa wasn’t at the reception. He managed to cross the desk without being stopped. Wearing a standard gang jacket and a foreboding expression usually lead to him being suspected for a lot of things and stopped for inspections.

He took the elevator and noted a strange smell. Young and strong. But it was a different kind of strength. Derek frowned, inhaling deeply. He caught the hint of something salty and dusty like old books. It was peculiar in that it felt not as human as he’d like. 

The elevator stopped on the right floor and he walked into the silent corridor. The scent was stronger here. Before he reached the morgue doors, two teens stepped out, engrossed in a fierce discussion. They did not look like they worked in a hospital. They wore frayed clothes and resembled more like hitchhikers. The boy and girl were tanned and tall. The smell emanating from them made Derek’s hair stand on edge. He almost growled at them.

They froze when they saw him. He could tell that they hadn’t expected to run into anyone, especially anyone like Derek.

“Who are you?” He practically barked at them. He heard their heartbeats rise. Their hands moved simultaneously towards their pockets. Derek couldn’t see anything like a gun or any other weapon.

“Nobody.” The girl said. “We were leaving.”

She pulled the boy who was staring at Derek stonily, as though contemplating if he could take him. Derek almost laughed. They didn’t seem like hunters, but their expressions told him that they were trained in something.

He frowned at them till they crossed him, got into the elevator and left.

…

“Either you’re deaf, or you’re dumb!” Jackson said angrily, trying to ignore Isaac. He stalked up to the hospital, feeling his claws extend. He kept his fists closed and strode on.  
Isaac seemed too complacent for how he really felt. Jackson could smell the frustration leaking off of him.

“You’re sure you saw nothing? Nothing was weird?”

“On a scale of the bite to changing into a lizard with wings, how would you want me to define ‘weird’?”

He walked up to the reception and ordered the nurse for his medical file. He remembered having to undergo a re-evaluation after he woke up from being dead. The second time, that is. His parents had been freaking out. The doctors were in shock. Jackson just wanted to sleep.

“May be you’re deaf.” Isaac retaliated. “Stiles died last night. Something else is in the woods that’s not really friendly. So, I’m asking you again. Did you see anything weird last night?”

Jackson snatched the folder from the nurse and turned on his heel. “I didn’t know you cared so much about Stilinski.”

He heard Isaac’s muted growl. Pushing open the doors, he caught new smells of pine, smoke and something salty. It was still a job to get used to his newly improved senses.

“We barely got out of the last mess intact. If this is something new –”

“Intact? I like your choice of words, I really do, Lahey. I’m quite sure that I killed at least a dozen people. That’s why I have my gorgeous glowing blue eyes. It’s quite fantastic, especially since I was being controlled the whole time. I don’t even remember killing anyone, yet I end up with blue eyes! And none of you could do anything about it except for finding the bodies!”

He was yelling. His eyes were glowing. Isaac responded in kind, gold eyes flashing at him. Jackson nearly crushed his medical folder in his hand, feeling the incredible urge to rip an arm out when they heard a curse from the side. He and Isaac whipped their heads and found a gleaming sword heading for them.

They ducked in tandem, rolling away and growling at the attackers. A boy and a girl, armed with swords. Jackson noticed that they were focusing on him but also keeping an eye on Isaac.

“What are you?” She demanded. Her eyes were a sharp grey that did not look quite human as it should have. The boy had a stiff jaw, raising his sword like he’d been wielding it his whole life. They smelt off. Not completely human and definitely not harmless.

Jackson found two sides of himself at war with each other. One side wanted to attack, rip and tears limb from limb. His claws were sharp and deadly and he felt his canines extend long and pointed. Isaac was growling along with him. He knew that they could take down the couple but not without a fight.

The other side of him told him to run. He wanted to escape because these two weren’t human. They were lethal warriors it seemed like and he could sense that.  
Isaac grabbed his arm. Jackson shook it off, not moving from his spot. He wouldn’t attack. He just wanted to leave.

“What are you?” He asked the girl the same question. She glared at him. Her sword looked less sculpted and even more toxic than the boy’s. It sent bad vibrations through Jackson’s gut.

He saw the boy lean towards the girl and whisper, “Blue.” A human wouldn’t have heard the exchange.

Jackson felt his eyes flare at that. He knew they were talking about his eyes. A werewolf with blue eyes was even more of a monster than one without. It seemed like everyone knew that. They’d probably attack him first and then Isaac. Or if he was really unlucky, Lahey would just turn and run while he’d be left to deal with sword wielding maniacs.

He growled at them unable to help himself. The boy pushed himself forwards, the tip of his sword swinging dangerously close to Jackson’s chest.

Isaac crouched as though he were about to lunge. Jackson imitated him, unconsciously already thinking as a team.

Both girl and boy looked ready for a fight but a voice shouted, “WAIT!”  
In his peripheral vision he saw McCall running towards them. How nobody else found four teens rearing for battle equipped with claws, fangs and swords, Jackson would never know.

“Wait! Don’t hurt them!” McCall and his moral compass entered the scene. The couple seemed to hesitate, exchanging startled glances with each other. Scott stood in front of Jackson and Isaac, facing the strangers.

“We don’t want a fight.” He said clearly, raising both arms. “We can talk. It doesn’t have to end with anyone getting hurt.”

Jackson wanted to laugh. McCall would never change. Even before the Bite, the guy would try to drag Stilinski away from any scrimmage the idiot could get mixed up in.

Speaking of Stilinski, Jackson could feel the waves of nausea and grief from McCall, but it was tightly clamped down. Scott had a mission and he’d see it through till the end.

“What are they?” The boy asked, sounding more civil. The swords weren’t lowered.

Isaac stepped forwards, flanking Scott’s right and Jackson did the same with his left, not even realising that he’d done that. The movement had felt too natural. He felt his fangs retract, recognizing a broken semblance of a pack whom he necessarily didn’t trust but would still side with.

“Actually, the question is what are you?” Isaac retaliated. “You definitely don’t smell human.”

Jackson cursed. The couple looked alarmed at the statement.

“Smell human? What’s that supposed to mean?” The boy asked roughly, frowning at them.

Scott seemed to struggle with himself. “Alright. Look, truth is none of us are human. But we’re not going to attack anyone. We’re all still people, right?”

It was a tense moment till the swords were withdrawn. Jackson blinked and the swords disappeared. Like magic. Shit just got real.

“Wow.” Isaac muttered staring at them.

“How about…” The girl said slowly. “…you keep your secret, we keep ours?”

That seemed the safest path. But Jackson folded his arms, unable to withdraw the claws and said “This is the twenty first century. Who uses swords?”

“We do.” The boy snarked, tilting his head. “Who has glowy eyes?”

“We do.” Isaac said, shrugging. “Besides, this is our place. Beacon Hills is our home. You’re the newcomers.”

“We were just passing through.” The girl said. She kept staring at McCall as though they were having a whole different conversation.

Scott nodded. “Okay. Nobody wants any trouble here. We can leave safely.”

“I wanna talk to him.” The boy said jerking his hand towards Jackson. 

“Percy…” The girl muttered, but he shook his head. “I know what I saw. It was just like his.”

“What?” Jackson snapped. He felt his claws dig into his sides, but did not move.

“I saw blue eyes glowing in the forest. And he has glowy blue eyes. If he hasn’t done anything, tell me where were you yesterday late evening?”

He directed the question to Jackson who growled and advanced forwards. Immediately, two swords appeared from thin air and Scott pushed Jackson back with a growl of his own.

“I said no fighting!” Scott sounded angry. It felt weird. 

“I was at home! I didn’t kill anyone this week.” The second part was for his own amusement. Scott and Isaac flinched while ‘Percy’ and the girl stared.

Scott turned back to them. “Just, trust us. Whatever we are, we have incredibly strong senses. I did not smell Jackson on … Stiles. It was someone else.”

His eyes flashed and something about it made Jackson recoil. He stepped back, feeling his claws retract.

“Derek’s gone to look for Peter.” Isaac muttered low enough that only the three of them could hear.

“Peter’s not there. We have to find him.” Scott whispered back. Jackson noticed the couple frowning at them.

“Shape-shifters.” The girl said. “That’s what you are. Like Lycaon.”

“What?” Percy laughed. “Like werewolves?!”

Jackson heard his own heart along with Scott’s and Isaac’s rise in tempo. 

“It doesn’t matter.” Scott said. “We’ll find who did this. But you may have to leave. There are more of us here.”

“Go ahead and tell them the entire epic, Homer.” Jackson snapped. He picked up his medical folder and arranged the papers. “I’m leaving.”

“Good riddance.” Isaac said. Jackson turned and roared at him, dropping the file again. Isaac growled and Scott pushed Jackson back, by placing his palm on his chest.

Then, someone else growled. It was low but carried out very well, all through the parking lot. Jackson, Scott and Isaac flinched. The couple turned, taking a few steps away from Derek who walked in his usual brooding, sulky manner, which looked even angrier at the moment.

“Not here!” he snarled at them and Jackson’s head automatically lowered, hating himself.

“Isaac goaded me.”

“Oh please!”

Derek exhaled heavily. Scott looked up with renewed energy and desperation. “Did you find something else?”

Instead of answering, the Alpha turned towards the couple and asked, “Who are you?”

They didn’t say a word, not willing to put away their weapons this time round. Isaac shoved his hands into his pockets. “We’ve agreed to keep all our secrets. Except for the douche.”

“Shut it, Lahey!”

“Will you guys stop?!” Scott shouted. “If neither you want to help, fine! Leave! But my best friend was killed and I want to find the murderer before they attack anyone else! You’re   
wasting everyone’s time!”

Jackson clamped his mouth shut, wanting to spout about how he didn’t care, he was done with Beacon Hills, but his instincts told him to keep quiet. Scott looked seconds away from actually attacking anyone who disagreed with him.

Isaac looked abashed. “Sorry.”

“We’ll find them.” Derek said firmly. He turned back to the maniacs. “Now, who are you?”

Apparently, they realized that they would be unable to escape the question. “I’m Percy and I was curious about this town. If there is a monster on the loose, I can take care of it.”

The girl said, “I’m Annabeth. Who are you?”

They introduced themselves, giving only first names. Jackson wanted to leave, but at the same time, he was curious about them. He stayed if only to know more.

Teenagers with warrior weapons, traveling the country, not to search and kill monsters, but on a road trip. They were the ones who found Stiles and saw glowing blue eyes. They’d decided to see if they could find the killer and put a stop to it.

Derek added his own data. Apparently Peter Hale had been near the body at some time, but it wasn’t strong. He’d most likely never even touched Stiles. There was another smell, stronger, out of control, raging, somebody new in Beacon Hills. Stiles’ jeep had been found in the suburbs at the edge of the forest land. The cops had brought it back to the station and the only scents on it were Stiles and Peter’s.

They really had to find this Peter guy, Jackson thought.

…..

They’d been preparing to leave. Boyd had had it right. Erica knew that her home was not safe for her anymore. She could feel it in the air. Things had died down but it wouldn’t be forever. People had died, they’d been tortured and what was coming would be worse still.

And the worse had happened. Isaac told them. Erica couldn’t even imagine Stiles being dead. It was unfathomable for her.

Derek knew of their intentions. They’d be running soon. Boyd had taken her hand, she’d slip her small bag over her shoulders and they’d just left the subway when they caught the scent of fresh human blood and something else that wasn’t human.

How much ever they’d wanted to leave, they were still part of the pack. It was still their territory. The sight of an outsider made Erica lose control. She threw her bag and ran for the intruder. Boyd was at her heels. He was talking but she couldn’t hear. The smell of blood threw her mind into a haze.

She leaped over roots on the ground and dodged trees, finally spotting a figure, running about as fast as she was. The intruder was a wolf. Wind whipped through her hair and Erica put on a burst of speed, growling.

The intruder turned back, sensing a predator and that was a mistake. Erica collided with her and they tumbled on the ground to a stop. Snarls filled the air as claws swiped at each other. Blue eyes flashed at her and she roared.

Boyd separated them. Erica flew back about ten feet. The omega founded herself pinned to the ground by his bulk. She snarled.

Erica rose to her feet. “Who are you?! What are you doing here?”

The girl snapped her teeth and Boyd growled, low and intense. Erica approached them.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” the girl shouted, surprising them. “I was looking for someone! I’ll leave! Let me go!”

“Who were you looking for? Did you attack someone?” Erica was in no mood to play games.

“The Alpha! I was looking for the Alpha!”


	4. Conundrum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is late because I had to rewrite a portion of it.

Allison set her phone down, taking a few moments to internalize the fact. It was harsh and sour. She felt her face crumpling. Sitting down on her bed made it worse. She couldn’t just stay there. Determined to do something about it, she stood up and grabbed her trusty bow and quiver. 

Her father was busy with papers. They were planning to sell the house. Allison knew that they’d be leaving for France soon enough, but it wasn’t confirmed if they’d come back.  
She wanted to stay, but at the same time, she also wanted to run away.

She stared down at her bow, wondering if she wanted her father to know about Stiles. But then she decided to take a chance and left the house.

At first, Allison drove in circles. She stopped outside the Stilinski driveway, looking up at the building. No one seemed to be there. Obviously the Sheriff would be working around the clock, not ready to go back to an empty home.

She remembered what it felt like, hearing the news of her mother’s death. How it changed her views completely. How she’d let Gerard manipulate her into hurting her own friends. She was closer to Kate in those moments than anything else. Everything she had done had felt right. Monsters were murderers.

She’d forgotten her father’s iron clad code. She’d forgotten Scott’s morals. All she wanted was to avenge her mother. There was no way the Sheriff wouldn’t stop searching for the truth. Someone would have to tell him about the preternatural. How easy it was for monsters to roam among humans. How some monsters weren’t bad. How they shouldn’t even be called that. 

Allison drove to Lydia’s house.

At first, it looked like there was nobody home. But she rung the bell anyway and was glad when Lydia opened the door. Her friend’s eyes were red.

Without another word, Allison hugged her. She didn’t know what Stiles had meant to Lydia. But it must have been some form of friendship, some form of trust. Lydia’s mascara was smudged and her makeup was ruined. It looked like she’d spent an hour in bed, soaking in her own tears.

“I knew something was wrong.” Lydia whispered into her shoulder. Allison squeezed her. “I knew it. I remember screaming. I thought it was a nightmare. I couldn’t sleep. I should have called him. I should have done something.”

Allison didn’t know what to say. Lydia had been bitten by Peter, but she wasn’t a werewolf or a Kanima. Nobody was certain if she was human, especially since she’d somehow revived Peter. The bastard had an arrow coming at him if Allison ever got the chance.

She led her inside and they sat on the couch. For a few seconds, they tried to take comfort from each other. Would the problems never stop? Just a week ago, they’d rid themselves of Gerard. Jackson was finally a werewolf and everything looked like it was back to normal. But then she heard that Peter was back. And now Stiles was gone.

“I thought it was a nightmare.” Lydia repeated. Her eyes were wide, unblinking. She stared into space, remembering the night. Allison hugged her again.

“We’ll find who did it.” She promised.

Lydia rocked into her side. Allison waited until she said, “I… think I know where to begin.”

…..

Annabeth didn’t know much about werewolves, but from what she was familiar about, it seemed to fit. Increased reflexes, instincts, senses and not in complete control. She should check when the next full moon was. Until then, she and Percy agreed to keep these strangers at a distance. They seemed to be telling the truth, but one could never truly know.

“So…” Percy said, fidgeting about. “You deal with stuff like this, pretty much all the time?”

“A little more than we’d like.” The curly blond haired guy, Isaac, said. “You?”

Percy looked at her for confirmation. “It’s died down a bit for us.”

The one named Jackson looked around frustrated. “If we’re done, I’m leaving.”

“We’re stronger in numbers.” Tall, dark and handsome said. Annabeth watched as Jackson mumbled something else but made no move to leave. The oldest one was definitely in charge. The boy they’d met yesterday might be second in command. His eyes had a strange glow to it like the others.

Pack. That’s what she was looking at. A pack of werewolves.

They looked like your ordinary run of the mill, temperamental teenagers, except for the leader. Alpha, in wolf talk. 

For a second, she wondered if they should leave. There were enough people to look into the problem. Would demigods be a hindrance? They didn’t even know the territory. Maybe Chiron was right. It wasn’t their business, really. They did their duty. They called the authorities and found someone for them. That should be it.

But Annabeth couldn’t leave. More than anything, it was curiosity, overruling her.

“You’ll have to take us back to the place where you found him.” Derek instructed them. She wanted to object. Who was he to give orders? But she also agreed that was the best place to start. Work backwards. Werewolves were probably good trackers.

“You have a car?”

“Yes. Lead the way.”

Unsurprisingly, along with the Alpha, the others followed them. Annabeth got into their car, watching in the mirror as the four wolves sat in a Camaro. She started the engine and pulled from the lot.

“What’s bugging ya?” Percy asked. She knew that he’d been waiting for them to get away from hearing range.

“Just… wondering if it’s our place.”

“I want to help.” Percy insisted.

“I know. I know. I was just wondering, is all.” She focused on the road, taking an exit into the highway. “I’m not sure how much to trust them.”

“I say we trust the leader.” Percy said easily. Annabeth rolled her eyes.

“You’re in awe of his beard.”

“What? Not him! The other guy. We talked to him yesterday. Scott!”

She frowned. “I don’t think Scott’s in charge.”

“Well, I kinda think he is. When his eyes were glowing, I thought ‘Damn.’”

“You think Scott’s the Alpha? Isn’t he too young? They’re still in high school. Derek is older. Mid-twenties, I’m guessing.”

Percy turned to stare at her. “Well, yeah. Derek with the beard and the eyebrows… yeah. But Scott too.”

“Scott might be the Beta. You know? Second in Command?”

“Is that what they call themselves? Alpha, Beta, Gamma?”

“I think it’s Alpha, Beta, Omega. Could be wrong.”

“Right.”

They sped up till they crossed the graffiti sign and a while after that, she slowed down. Percy pointed out the spot. She moved to the side and stopped the car, watching out for traffic, but it was deserted. Beacon Hills must be a lonely town.

Somebody had cleaned the blood. She couldn’t smell any disinfectant, but the werewolves were staring at a singular patch where Percy had pointed in the car and she had no doubt.

“Where did you see the eyes?” Derek asked, tearing his gaze away from the road. His voice was constricted and Annabeth had to clear her throat to answer him.

“Through the trees. Percy saw them.”

“Two points of blue glowiness, right over there.” He said looking at where he thought was right. Annabeth couldn’t see much. There was enough light to see through the first few trees, but after that, the forest looked quite dark. She could easily imagine a predator stalking them from there.

“Doesn’t smell like Peter.” Scott, muttered.

“Someone new?” Isaac asked.

Annabeth watched as the pack exchanged a few stray names with no fruit. They were tactile, she noticed. Isaac kept squeezing Scott’s shoulder. Jackson even punched his arm a couple of times, probably to display his irritation, but it felt friendlier than angst.

Derek stood stoic, kneeling down on the road and looking at the gravel path their friend must have taken to emerge from the forest. He nodded to himself.

“It’s somebody new.” He decided, confirming Isaac’s guess. “A new… creature.”

He turned towards the teens and murmured, “Omega.”

She caught the word but didn’t fully understand it. Omega must be a designation of wolves or another monster. But what did it mean?

Scott let out a growl. She could feel the vibration of it in her chest and pressed herself closer to Percy. It felt like a similar amount of power when Derek had growled to stem the fight that could have broken out in the hospital parking lot.

“Can we track them?” Scott asked. He held his arms stiffly, ready to start running. Derek kept frowning until he nodded. 

“We can try. Jackson and I will start from here. Scott, you and Isaac head over to the suburbs where Stiles’ jeep was found. If you find Erica and Boyd, bring them along. I don’t want anyone going off on their own.”

Annabeth watched as he tossed his keys to a surprised Isaac. Derek and Jackson turned and ran into the forest, putting on a burst of speed that startled her. They were fast. Her theory of Lycaon and werewolves sounded less laughable.

Percy raised his eyebrows as the other shape-shifters jogged to Derek’s car and drove away. They were standing there alone.

“Is that it?” He asked, incredulous. “They didn’t even ask for our help!”

“May be… they can deal with this on their own?” She hedged. The bypass was empty. Annabeth walked towards their car, wondering if they should simply drop everything and get away from this town.

Percy’s shoulders slumped. “Come on, Annabeth! Aren’t you the least bit curious?! Werewolves! Seriously! And they aren’t monstrous or anything, they’re… people! Don’t you even want to find out more about it? This is a learning experience!”

She frowned. “What happened to avenging a young teenager?”

Percy flushed, “Sorry. Yeah, that sounded bad. No, what I meant was, I wanted to stay behind and see this whole thing through.”

Annabeth brushed her hair back, trying to calm herself. “We don’t know anything about this town, Seaweed Brain! If you want me to admit it, fine! We are not prepared. We have no information, no understanding of what goes on out here. Our perspective on this place is highly biased and we honestly don’t think –”

She stopped talking. Percy stared at her, confused before swivelling around to see what had caught her eye.

A man stood on the road. He wore simple cargo pants and a v-neck, looking highly amused and out of place. He wore the guise of a master planner or someone who was in the inner circle to all the secrets that had ever existed.

Annabeth swore that he hadn’t been there just a few seconds ago.

“Well.” The man said softly. “I’d never expected to run across demigods my entire life. Don’t you guys prefer the coasts?”

…..

Lydia stared ahead, not having said a word since Allison had started the car. They were on their way to the last place Stiles was seen. They had a semblance of a plan. The best thing to do would be to track what happened from there. Allison had said that she was good at tracking prints. If they could understand what had happened, why he’d even been there to begin with, maybe the mystery would be less mysterious.

She exhaled, trying to compose herself. She’d known Stiles only for a few months. He’d been a virtual stranger since they were children. He’d had a crush on her since they were young. Many people did. Lydia was beautiful and she played that to her advantage. Personally, she’d never really saw the point of having to associate herself with people outside her circle. Her cliché had been enough for her.

She was smart, perfect and ambitious. She loved the façade and how she was able to fool everyone with it. It had been a shock to her when Stiles had outed her. He’d gone from ‘What the hell is a Stiles?’ to a potential friend.

So had Scott. Allison had been the bridge. The girl was sweet, kind and fierce that Lydia was sometimes jealous, especially when it came to their respective ex-boyfriends. 

Lydia didn’t know what was happening to her. There were werewolves, hunters, Kanimas and controllers. She’d been bitten. But she hadn’t turned. So whatever she was, it was messing with her psyche. 

She knew something had gone wrong. She could feel it. She remembered the feeling of screaming, the utter helplessness of the power that seemed to engulf her, directing her to somewhere she just could not comprehend.

She couldn’t understand what she could do. Lydia swallowed, trying to remain impassive in her seat. She almost jumped when Allison reached over the console and grabbed her hand. They squeezed it and Lydia reveled in the touch.

“We’ll get to the bottom of this.” Allison promised.

Lydia broke from her reverie and said, “We will.” 

They smiled and the space in the car was silent again till they reached their destination. Scott had told Allison that Stiles was interested in something out here. Lydia got out of the car and stared at the dense forest that stretched on the entire side of the road. It was a dangerous part of the neighborhood. Houses and urbanization began right by the forest. 

“Ninth house from the turn.” Allison said, looking at the row of identical buildings. “That’s the one.”

Lydia looked up at where she was pointing. She could imagine a simple lower middle class nuclear family to live in buildings like these. The paint was peeling and there was a scent of dampness that suggested un-cared walls after rains. There was a high keening noise that made Lydia feel a little dizzy, but she dismissed it and focused around her. The small patch of garden beside the porch was filled with weeds but there were spaces in between that suggested that they were dug up regularly, maybe for introducing fresh air into the earth, or something else, she wasn’t sure.

They walked up to the house and rang the doorbell. She wrung her hands and then dropped them trying to steel herself. She would not lose her composure. Whatever Stiles was up to, she’d get to the bottom of it.

Allison reached forwards and rang the bell again. They waited for a minute, trying to listen through the door for any kind of sound from the house. 

Lydia squinted. “Do you hear that? It’s irritating.”

Allison looked bemused. “Hear what?”

“Don’t you hear it? I think it’s a teapot… it’s really faint though.”

Allison shook her head. “I don’t hear anything. This place is downright creepy. There’s nobody home.”

Lydia frowned, closing her eyes. Yes, she could hear the whistle. Was it a tea pot or a pressure cooker? Was there someone in the kitchen? Why weren’t they shutting off the stove?

She rang the doorbell and waited for anything to move within the house. The generic sound of the bell faded but the whistle was still prevalent. On top of it, it felt like someone was whispering to her.

Lydia spun around, almost expecting someone to be standing behind them, but there was nobody in the vicinity.

“Lydia?” Allison asked uncertainly.

“I can hear something.” She said. Suddenly, she wasn’t sure if it was her ears or her head that had gone off the cliff.

“Focus on it.” Allison insisted, not looking too panicked. It calmed Lydia and she closed her eyes again. The whistle was steady and there was nobody else, nothing else she could hear –

“Hey!”

Lydia jolted upright. Allison almost pulled out her crossbow to aim at a guy who stood below the porch, looking up at them, questioningly.

“Who are you?” He asked. Lydia had the strangest feeling that the question had been repeated several times in the morning. It was odd because it was the first time she’d heard it today.

“Is this your house?” Allison asked, managing to sound sweet and innocent as though they were about to offer Girl Scout cookies.

The guy frowned, shuffling most of his weight onto one foot. Lydia noted that with the facial hair, he looked about the same age as Derek, but she’d pin him at least a couple of years younger than the Alpha. He had a worn bag slung carelessly over his shoulder and a worked-to-death persona. Graveyard shift at a low income job, probably.

“Who’s askin’?” He countered.

Lydia tried for a slightly passive flirty smile (it worked 98 percent of the time.) “Our friend was here yesterday and we wondered if this was the house.”

“Who’s your friend?”

“Stilinski. Know him?”

The crease between the guy’s eyebrows deepened. “You talkin’ about the Sheriff?”

Allison gave a little giggle. “Of course not, silly! Our friend’s a teen. Sweet boy. I’m quite sure he was here yesterday, though.”

Lydia batted her eyelashes, hoping that the dual effect of their charms were strong enough. Apparently, it was. The guy blushed and averted his eyes for a second before facing them again.

“Um… Can’t help you. I wasn’t here yesterday. It’s my mom’s place.”

“Huh.” Lydia said out loud. She shared a confused look with Allison. “Who else?”

The guy sighed like he couldn’t believe the situation. “Well, my mom and my brother. But they’re out on town today.”

“Your brother…?”

“He goes to BHHS.” The guy’s expression cleared. “Are you here about the tutoring session?”

Allison latched onto it. “Well, we just heard about it –”

“Right.” All of the sudden, he was business. “There’s likely no tuitions that anyone will take here. My brother’s practically a straight A student and mom wouldn’t like it anyway. We actually have lives to lead. Sam put up the flyers anyway, but trust me, it’s not gonna happen.”

Lydia blinked. She’d never heard such drama over tutors that didn’t involve making out. It hardly made sense. She wasn’t sure if there was anything else they could ask without giving too much away. And then, suddenly, she didn’t care.

“Our friend is called Stiles.” She said, ignoring Allison’s warning. “He was here yesterday, to talk to someone. We just wanted to know what about.”

The guy shrugged. “Sorry, but like I said, I wasn’ here.”

“Then we’ll wait for your brother.” Lydia was prepared to stand on the porch and wonder what the strange whistling sound was till the boy came back. The guy hiked up his bag with a frustrated look.

“See here, we’ve got a problem with loiterin, ‘kay? Plus we already have a lot on our plates. So if you could leave and not bother us, I’d appreciate it.”

“You’re hiding something.” Lydia snapped. “Whatever it is, don’t think we won’t find out. You have no idea who your messing with.”

“Lydia!” Allison hissed when the guy glared at them. “I… I am really sorry, we’re just pressured for time. We need to talk to whoever Stiles came here for –”

“Well, you’re not welcome. Either you could leave quietly, or I could call the Sheriff’s department. They were here a few days ago, they’ll come back pretty damn fast if I want them to. Leave.”

He glared at them and to Lydia’s surprise, Allison pulled her away from the house and walked at rigid speed down the road to her car. She removed her arm from the firm grip and Allison said, “What was that about?”

They reached the car and leaned against it watching as the man entered the house and shut the door.

“There’s something about that house. I can feel it. I could hear it.” Lydia insisted, staring at the building as though she could find the answers. Irritation felt like a scarf wrapping around her neck to constrict her breathing.

“Well, we won’t get anything now, not with the impression we made. But what he said about the Sheriff’s department… the police were here a while back.”  
Lydia looked towards Allison with wide eyes. Stiles’ father knew nothing about the supernatural and Stiles had wanted to keep it that way. What if something had gone wrong?

“We can ask someone at the station… maybe there was a disturbance here and the police came to check it out and then Stiles heard about it and decided to do his own investigating.” Lydia ventured.

Allison nodded. “May be. Scott should know more.” She said looking behind her. Lydia turned and saw another car stopped behind Allison’s with a screech. They watched as Scott and Isaac got out of what she was pretty sure was Derek Hale’s Camaro.

“Did you find something?” Allison asked, walking towards Scott who almost ran towards her and then stopped awkwardly as though they’d realised then that they weren’t together.

“We found two weirdos with swords at the hospital.” Isaac said shoving his hands in his pockets and looking at his feet with a frown. “They were the ones who found Stiles.”

“Swords?” Lydia asked as though she couldn’t contemplate such a notion. “It’s the twenty first century.”

“Were they ninjas?” Allison joked feebly. Scott looked like he’d never known humor his whole life.

“Something else. But they lead us to the bypass where they found him. They said that they saw blue eyes staring at them from the forest.”

“Like a werewolf’s?”

“Yeah. Then they saw Jackson and Isaac arguing and they almost shifted in the parking lot.”

“They thought that Jackson was the killer.” Isaac muttered.

Lydia exhaled, feeling burdened. The nasty whistling sound had ceased thankfully, but she still couldn’t grasp the whole situation.

“Wait a second. Stiles came here to talk to this family. And then for some reason walks into the woods, leaving his jeep here? He knows what’s in the forest. He wouldn’t do that unless there was something specific.” 

Scott and Isaac shared hesitating looks.

“What?” Allison asked.

“Nothing. Well, Derek said that he could get two wolf scents from Stiles… when he visited him in the hospital. One was Peter’s –”

“WHAT!??”

“And the other was a new wolf. Someone not from Beacon Hills.” Scott finished. Lydia immediately thought of a burnt body and she felt dizzy as she breathed in the smell of wolfsbane in the air. She leaned against the car and pressed her hands to her temples, massaging them. The high pitch whistling sound was there. It felt like it emanated from the house, but she elected to ignore it.

“Stiles would never follow Peter into the woods.” Allison declared.

“I know.” Scott agreed. “But we haven’t found him, so until then, he’s a suspect. Derek and Jackson’s tracking the trail that Stiles took to reach the highway. Hopefully, they’ll get a fresher scent of the new wolf.

“That guy’s staring at us.” Isaac said out of the blue. Lydia, Allison and Scott turned and found the guy they’d been talking to, looking through his window, watching them keenly.

“That‘s the house he went to, right?” Scott surmised.

“Yes. We talked to him.” Lydia said.

“It didn’t go too well.” Allison pointed out. “But we know that the police was there a few days ago. May be that’s why Stiles came here.”

“Someone had died.” Scott interrupted her. Lydia stared at him.

“Died… in that house? Is that why Stiles went there? To check it out?” Isaac asked incredulously. “Why didn’t he call you? Or anyone for that matter? Why did he go alone?”

“It wasn’t murder. This shelf had fallen on a guy and killed him. The police ruled it out as an accident. Stiles thought that something smelled fishy and he wanted to me come along. He did call me. I didn’t feel up to it. I didn’t know he’d go alone.”

Scott sounded so miserable that Lydia felt like either hugging him or slapping him, yelling at him to get a grip. She felt like crying again, feeling her nose tingle and her eyes burn.

“Don’t you dare blame yourself.” Allison said fiercely. “Stiles had chosen to come out here alone, it was not your fault. We’ll get to the bottom of this, even if it involves telling the Sheriff.”

…

Melissa may be new to the werewolf scene, but she knew that anything out of the ordinary may not necessarily be attributed to the supernatural. A misplaced list, a forgotten grocery item, the wind making the doors slams shut – they were all normal and far too mundane to get worked up over. But this? It was not good.

She didn’t know what to tell the coroner. He hardly took notice of her either way, complaining about the lack of security in the place and how he would be fired because some idiot had gone and stolen the body of the Sheriff’s son, leaving what looked like claw marks all over the place.


	5. Omega

Boyd kept his hands folded, his visage immediately falling into one of the unimpressed and unmoved adult. He had the power to make it look like he didn’t care, but in reality what Boyd did best was listen. He could be quiet for days and know all the secrets because some people couldn’t shut up. He could be Gossip Girl.

Okay, that was taking it too far, but the impression helped because the omega looked suitably cowered by his presence if she wasn’t already scared stiff by Erica. The wolf looked formidable and ready to rip someone’s throat out of pure anger.

“I’ll leave.” The omega mumbled, scratching at the ground nervously. Her eyes were dilated and she smelled of sweat and helplessness. Fatigue was an aura around her and Boyd felt bad. But she also smelt of human blood and her teeth was stained in it as though she’d bit into someone recently.

“Did you attack anyone around this county?” Erica asked.

The question sent a shudder through the girl’s body. She shut her eyes, a very poor decision especially since she was in enemy territory cornered by said enemy’s pack. Boyd wondered if she was freshly turned, one who had no training yet.

He breathed in as subtly as he could. He couldn’t tell if she were really born or bitten. Derek would have been able to. The thought made him slightly bitter. Derek was not leader material, but he had tried to be. That was all Boyd could say of him. He was a born wolf, though. He’d have the most experience of this amongst the lot of them.

“I… I didn’t mean to…” The girl whispered flinching when Erica marched forward. Boyd caught a hold of her hand. She snarled at him and his eyes flashed at her. He felt his fangs grow in response to her anger.

“I bet she killed him!” Erica growled, snapping her neck to look down at the girl. “Did you? Did you kill Stiles?”

“I… I…” The girl looked seconds from bursting into tears.

“Erica.” Boyd muttered as softly as he could. “The blood. It doesn’t smell like Stiles’. It’s someone else’s.”

Erica froze for a second, frowning and sniffing the air around the omega. Her eyes widened as she looked towards him for advice. “So… what? There’s someone else roaming around the woods killing people?”

He looked pained at that. All he wanted a break from the utter chaos that was their life. How was he to know that becoming powerful, having a bit of agency in his hands would make him just as powerless to even more diabolical sources?

Erica growled again, this time out of frustration. She brushed back her hair and looked at the girl again. “Who did you attack?”

The omega had been crying silently. He could smell the trauma surrounding her, thickening the air and making it hard to breathe. He gave Erica a look before kneeling down in front of the omega to look her in the eye.

“Were you bitten?” Boyd asked in a low voice. The girl looked up, seeming even more heartbroken. She looked at Erica and then back at Boyd, nodding. 

“Alright. Did you attack someone last night?”

Tears filled her eyes. She nodded again. “Two… two hikers… I couldn’t help… help it. The alpha was out of control.”

Boyd leaned back on his heels. He could feel Erica just as surprised as him.

“What alpha?” She asked the girl. 

The girl’s eyes darted between them again. “My alpha. He’s my brother… we were heading north… but he lost control and attacked me… and we got separated…”

Boyd frowned, thinking fast. “When were you turned?”

“About… a month ago.”

Erica gave a low whistle. “How did your brother become an Alpha if the both of you were only bitten a month ago?”

The girl had stopped crying, sniffling occasionally. Boyd wished he had a hanky or any kind of tissue but the girl rubbed her face on her sleeve and said, “The previous alpha was a lunatic. She was biting everyone, turning them all and then killing them afterwards.”

Boyd and Erica exchanged startled glances. Derek had talked about a few wolves that became rabid at times because of power or the moon or inability to keep in touch with their human side. But this sounded even beyond that.

“My brother fought her and won. But the pack was already dead by then. I didn’t want to stay there anymore so we left. We were just passing through the forest when we started arguing about… I don’t even remember what… we were fighting and he just turned and lashed out at me… I think we both lost control. We ran in opposite directions and I found this stream. I was really thirsty, but still couldn’t get rid of the claws. Then the hikers came and saw me. I don’t remember after that…”

She hid her face as though she couldn’t believe what she’d done. Erica shook her head, looking at Boyd as though, ‘What now?’

“If there’s another alpha at Beacon Hills… wouldn’t Derek know about it?” Boyd asked. Erica pressed her lips together. Technically, that was true. Derek should have known about the intrusion yesterday. But he’d been busy trying to convince Boyd and Erica to stay. They’d talked for hours, not really arguing, just talking about other options. Boyd knew that it had to be hard for Derek to let his pack break without a fight.

It wasn’t much of an excuse but Boyd had nothing else to go on. “Could your brother have attacked anyone?”

The girl looked fearful. “Oh god… he was really angry. We both were… If anyone got in his way…”

Erica closed her eyes. Boyd gritted his teeth. Three people had already died. They’d have to find the rogue Alpha and bring him down from his high.

“It’s the full moon tomorrow.” Erica whispered.

…..

Derek should keep his focus completely on sniffing out the faint trail. Stiles’ scent was already fading, but he still had a lock on it. The full moon was close and his senses were heightened. 

He could also smell Jackson’s multiple emotions of severe irritation, boredom and hurt.

The last one was a little surprising. Clearly Scott’s agony and Isaac’s frustration had rubbed off him. It was not impossible to permanently disconnect pack bonds, but since neither Jackson nor Scott had been willingly part of the (broken, dysfunctional, fragmented) pack, the empathy wouldn’t be as strong. The fact that there was any kind of connection at all only emphasised how wolves fared in the company of others to reduce pain by redistributing it.

Jackson was strangely quiet as they headed deeper into the forest. Derek could hear his slightly unsteady heartbeat. He was vigilant, but was pretending not to care. Teenagers. He could not have been this moody. At least, not before the fire.

Derek stopped walking. Jackson stopped too. The scent of blood was stronger and staler. Derek pushed aside a few low hanging branches and tried not to grimace at the sight.

Several roots that were sticking out of the ground were slashed with deep ridges. Someone either very strong, or with great rage had done it. Or both. There were broken bits of twigs and branches along with torn up grass and plants on the ground. And most of the debris was covered with blood that was already drying.

Stiles must have stumbled into the wolf and went down almost immediately. But the wolf didn’t kill him. Instead, it left him bleeding severely. The boy then crawled out of the forest, reaching the bypass.

Derek caught Jackson holding his breath. No matter how much the teens had hated each other, there would have still been a sense of loss that the wolf would experience. Jackson may never admit it, but the scene of the crime, as Derek knew, would haunt him for a long time.

“How many can you smell?” He asked shortly. Jackson looked up in surprise. He tried to glare at him but looked down at the claw marks.

“Two. Stiles and the werewolf.”

“Think you can track him?”

Jackson looked constipated. “We’re splitting up?”

“No.” Derek fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I want you to lead.”

“Why? You’re better at it.”

“You’re planning to leave for London.” Derek snapped. “Don’t you think you need to learn some control and skill?”

Jackson swallowed. “I can manage.”

They stared at each other. Derek wanted to laugh. Of course, he also wanted to rip the kid a new one. He should never have bit him. It could have avoided the whole debacle of the kanima. Not to mention, one growl and Jackson could stay quiet the rest of their lives.

“The smart thing to do would be to learn about your own powers. If you’re ignorant, you could get killed. Omegas almost never fair well. Wolves work better in a pack.”

Jackson glared at him. “I’m not ignorant. I have been reading up on stuff.”

“Good. Google does know everything.”

“I’m not like Stilinski! Lydia told me a lot about a lot. I can do it myself.” He stammered.

“Fine.” Derek waved an arm. “Lead the way.”

Jackson’s expression put him in an almost good mood. After a moment’s deliberation, he sniffed at the scene, closing his eyes with a frown. Derek watched as the seconds passed. Then, Jackson opened his eyes and started walking in towards the south-east.

“Not quite.” Derek called, gesturing him towards another direction.

Jackson turned deftly without a sound and marched. Derek followed him quietly, taking in the signs of debris along the forestry. A few broken twigs, torn leaves and the like. The faint scent of the werewolf lingered and from what Derek could make of it, there was low resistance. Whoever, or whatever, this thing was, it had a substantial lack of control, brash attack with no strategy and was running loose in the forest. If they couldn’t catch it before it decides to run into town –

Jackson gasped, stumbling in his steps. He faltered backwards and Derek almost ran into him.

He smelt it first rather than saw it.

Amidst the tranquil little scene of a brook that cascaded over the side of a raised landscape, the sun shone on the bloodied remains of an animal. Or perhaps, it had been more than one. Along with the scraps of flesh torn asunder and flung along a part of the bank, there was dirty strips of cloth and a tough bag that had been ripped to shreds. A lone shoe was half buried in the soft mud of the small river bank.

The stench made Derek’s skin crawl. Blood, mud, fear and rage. The scene was devoid of feeling and more of a wild rabid animal attack.

Jackson choked, turning away from the sight. Derek clenched his jaw, keeping a tight lid on his own emotions and walked up to the place. 

There was another werewolf’s scent. Two rogue wolves were roaming around Beacon Hills. Derek growled and heard a low response from Jackson instinctively. The scents were horribly diluted in the water. They couldn’t track it either any further.

The sound of a twig snapping made Derek to morph into Alpha wolf form and snarl at the culprit. Jackson jumped back, flashing his eyes. There was no one else which made him calm down, but Jackson’s eyes still glowed, his body very much on edge.

Derek pulled back. “Sorry.” He said roughly. It would do anyone any good if he scared Jackson into helping. Intimidation tactics might work for short term goals, but if he really had to teach the boy on how to maintain control and take command of the inner wolf, he’d have to be helpful, rather than forceful.

“Look at this.” Jackson said. Derek followed his gaze and saw what he had seen. 

There was a piece of torn polyester, deep red and faded in pattern. It hung on a bramble bush as though someone running through the woods had been zipping through plants and thorns. If there was any smell on it, Derek would bet that it was Stiles’.

“He must have stumbled onto the bodies.” Jackson suggested. Derek frowned. The red strip was a little too far away from the crime scene, not to mention, it wouldn’t have given anyone a good vantage point to see the bodies. The scent was too faint which means Stiles must have run though the area and not stopped to spy on anyone.

“He wasn’t that much of an idiot.” Derek replied, looking for a trail. He gave another look towards the corpses. “Keep on the track. This place is too far for anyone to walk without purpose. He must have been chased by one werewolf and a second wolf killed those two.”

“A second… Two wolves?” Jackson mumbled, looking worried and irritated. “And we have to find them both?”

“Would you rather they find someone else?”

Jackson kept quiet and they rushed down in the direction of the fading human trail.

…..

Percy kept his sword levelled at the creepy dude. Everything about the newcomer screamed dangerous. For a moment he thought he saw the man’s eyes flash blue, but when he kept staring, they were an ordinary, human cool blue and not supernaturally enhanced.

But he knew about them. He’d called them out as demigods. He’d appeared on the deserted road, almost by magic. This town was a little too strange for them to handle.

“And what are you?” He directed the question at him. The stranger looked a little offended and playful.

“What? Now that’s quite rude. What would the gods think with their children being so immoral?”

Annabeth withdrew her own sword and flashed it at him. “We don’t take well to threats.”

The man placed a hand on his heart. “My dear, you think I’m threatening you? It’s certainly not my place – to threaten anyone. Believe me, I’m no threat. I’m merely curious as to the peculiar visitors to my home town.”

Percy wanted to scoff. The soft words rolled off his tongue like water on a duck’s back. It did nothing to calm either of them down, though.

“Neither of you are cautious about your secrecy. Waving about ancient swords will not help convince anyone that you are normal.”

Annabeth stepped forwards. “What do you want?”

The man smiled. “That’s better. Now we’re getting somewhere.”

Percy gritted his teeth. Whatever the stranger was – human, werewolf, monster – he was not friendly or even on the side lines. 

Their car was locked and the keys were in Annabeth’s pockets. The safest thing was to get in the car and drive away. But they didn’t know what the man could do. Was he the rogue werewolf? An omega that liked killing or couldn’t help it?

He looked sociopathic. Percy nudged Annabeth softly to get her attention. She barely lifted her chin, when the man shook his head.

“No. See all I need is a bit of knowledge. Nothing materialistic, I’m not that inane. It will barely take a few minutes.”

Percy snorted for real. “Not gonna happen. Now get out of the way or we’ll run you over.” He caught Annabeth’s elbow and pulled her back, but froze when he caught the sight of their tires.

All four wheels were slashed. They were deflated completely, almost comically. Annabeth whipped her head to glare at the man.

“What the Hades?!”

The man shrugged looking almost bored with their shock. “Hmm. Just needed a bit of reassurance. Don’t worry, as soon as you help me out, I’ll help you get them exchanged.”

“How about I run you through?” Percy challenged, charging for him, but Annabeth grabbed his shirt to pull him back. There was a warning in her eyes and he could see the stiffness and cold logic behind them. He tried not to glare at her. He was sure that they could take him down easily. Two demigods against one werewolf? They’ve been through far worse.

“Wait!” Annabeth hissed. “It doesn’t make sense for him to just stand there and talk if he was the wolf who killed the boy.”

“What d’you want? To invite him for tea?”

“I’m saying.” Annabeth muttered, looking anxious. “No one would do such a thing unless they were really confident and powerful. We don’t know anything and this isn’t home turf, Percy.”

He looked at her, upset by the lack of strategy, but as in most cases, Annabeth raised a good point. It still didn’t make Percy’s desire to stab the guy at least once, dissipate or anything.

“What do you want?” Annabeth nodded him.

The man smiled. It made Percy want to shudder, but he clamped down on the side of him that still tended to act as a guinea pig. 

“A datum on Mors’s nutritive habits.”

Percy stared. “Eh?”

The man looked towards Annabeth who looked like she knew what he was talking about but had no idea how to respond. “I’m sorry?”

“Anything would be useful. Does he like his cupcakes with extravagant frosting, but very vegan?”

Annabeth shared a look with her dumbfounded Percy, feeling equally lost. “Mors?”

“Yes.” The man said, impatience creeping into his voice. “You’ve met him, haven’t you?”

She frowned. “How do you know that?”

The guy tilted his head ever so slightly and Percy again felt wary. This guy was definitely not mortal, at least not completely.

“Beacon Hills may be in a corner, but we’ve still heard of the Heroes of Olympus, Ms. Chase.” His voice was impossibly soft, but it carried over to them and Percy exhaled, nostrils flaring. Beacon Hills might have been in a corner, but it was the creepiest and most bizarre place populated with sociopathic weirdos.

….

John Stilinski reached home in a stupor. Tara dropped him off with a warning to please, get some sleep, sheriff we’ll call you if we find anything are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital i mean, just to get checked for shock…

Her words flew over his head and he couldn’t make sense out of them. Everything felt far away and he found himself disconnecting with reality. There was no reason to do anything at the house. It wasn’t like he’d be able to sleep, especially, not after he’d seen the body of his little boy, far too quiet, far too still.

“John?” Tara called. He blinked and turned towards her, feeling tiredness hit his bones almost immediately. She caught his arm and helped him climb out of the car.

“Melissa gave a call –

“I know.” He said roughly. Melissa had called the station a few hours ago, sounding like she’d been regretting everything in her life. She’d said that Stiles was missing. On top of the worst week that Sheriff was living through (dragging himself through,) he now had to find his son’s body. He felt as though he were being punished for something atrocity that he’d committed a long time ago.

“Not… not that.” Tara murmured. “Melissa said that if you couldn’t stay here, you could drop by her house –”

“I can stay here!” John snapped at his deputy. He wanted to apologize for startling her, but the apathy of wanting to lie down and die was quite strong.

He stepped away from her, moving towards his house sluggishly. He struggled for his keys to get the door open. He waited till Tara left before leaning against the wall, slinking to the floor. His body was on automatic, the breathing was slow, the heart rate was steady and he stared at the blank screen of the television, trying to recall when was the last time he and Stiles had sat down to watch something. It took him sometime to remember the segment of Dancing with the Stars. He wasn’t sure why they actually watched that, but they did.

“Dad?” The voice was low and careful. John tilted his head. Was he hallucinating?

He waited. He must have been dreaming or having a delusion. Maybe he was going into shock. The realisation would hit him again as it did several hours ago.

There was a sound from upstairs. John kept his eyes on the opposite wall and then heard someone walking down the stairs. He couldn’t connect with reality. He knew that there was someone right beside him, standing next to him, but he couldn’t really react.

“Dad?” He heard that word again. John realised that it was a word that he would never hear again. Why was he subjected to it? How could he be punished any further, he was practically destroyed now.

A shadow fell on the couch. John stared at it. It looked very familiar. And then his gaze was obstructed by an even more haunting visage.

“Hello.” John said, wondering if it was Stiles’ ghost come to say goodbye. Strange. Claudia had never done anything like this. Or maybe she had and John was too busy, dropping Stiles off at the McCalls to hit the bottle.

“It’s me.” The Stiles Impersonator said. It looked more solid that a ghost. So solid that it was covered by his corporeal comforter and looked shirtless. John wanted to touch its face to see if it felt real as well, but didn’t dare to. 

“Hello.” He said again, feeling strangely blank.

“Oh god, you’re in shock aren’t you? Why are you alone? I mean, they shouldn’t have left you alone if you were in shock!”

John frowned. It talked like Stiles. Exactly like him. It was quite unnerving.

“Dad!” It caught his shoulder in a tight grip. John noted that it hurt, but that wasn’t really possible. “Look at me. I’m not dead.”

Maybe he was the punch line to a cosmic joke. Yes, that seemed about right.

It sighed. John felt a wave of nausea. It looked too much like how his son would speak, would shift nervously and look vexed when others didn’t understand what he meant.  
And then the apparition buried his face in his hands.

“Dad! I’m being serious here! Snap out of it! It’s me, Stiles! I’m real, I’m alive. You’re not dreaming!”

John nodded. He liked this dream. He didn’t want to wake up. The thing/spirit even smelled the same as Stiles. It looked so alive, with the swinging arms and panicked expression …

He frowned, blinking at the neck. There were no scratches, no deep claw marks, just clear partially freckled skin. It wasn’t just shirtless either, it was naked. That puzzled him so much he tried to listen to what it kept saying. It spoke a lot. Just like Stiles used to.

“… gonna sound crazy, dad. But trust me, I’m not lying. It was a werewolf that attacked me. Yeah, Beacon Hills has werewolves. I’m a werewolf. I got scratched by one, an alpha (cause only alphas can make new werewolves) I knew that because the guy had crazy red eyes, like Peter. God, Peter, that scumbag, I saw him, he didn’t do anything! And it hurt like hell! And then I woke up in a metal coffin, holy shit! Nobody wants that, it was more disturbing than the Scream and Jason franchises put together! It was like the costumes in That 70s Show!”

There was familiar sense of relaxation and exasperation John felt when he heard his son talk. He was home.

“Do you get it? Dad I woke up and I was totally wolfed out! I mean, I had claws! Serious claws and they hurt, jeez, I don’t know how Scott does it…”

Stiles’ expression contorted as he stared at his hands. John stared at them too. For a moment it felt like a regular evening conversation with them talking about the most absurd things. Hands, claws and werewolves, honestly. That was not as outlandish as the time they’d once debated about the Feng Shui being misogynist and racist.

“…and the crazy wolf is still out there and I couldn’t even think so I came straight here, sans clothes, by the way. I don’t think anyone saw me. Although, Mr. Feliz may have, because he always stays at home, doesn’t he? He’s the kooky guy of the street. Maybe he thought I was a coyote? I was running pretty fast. Like lightning. Dad?”

“Okay.” John said, and then worried if the delusion would break, but Stiles just kept staring at him.

“You don’t believe me, do you? Dad, I’m alive. Look at me!”

He grabbed John’s hand. Their fingers curled together and John could feel human warmth. Strange, just the previous night, it was cold, heavy and lifeless. Now it was warm…

And he could feel a pulse. It beat with time against the tips of his fingers. John watched their hands. Stiles’ wrist was upturned and John could feel it. Strong and steady, the pulse practically hit his awareness. Suddenly, his breath was snatched from him and he looked up to stare at Stiles.

“It’s really me.” The whisper was louder and stronger than the speech his son had given before.

“But… how –”

Stiles looked wary, but sat down and narrated the story since when two idiots had gone into the woods, searching for a body. A dead one.


	6. Normal

Annabeth could hear Percy grumbling the entire time. She took his hand and squeezed it in hopes that he’d settle down, but he still kept twitching. 

The creepy guy had vanished after they’d given him option son what Thanatos would like as food. Ambrosia and nectar, of course, and for some reason, Mint Humbugs. Hazel had commented on it once and the point had been stuck with Annabeth. Luckily, she could recall it.

The creepy guy then pointed in the direction of a mechanic’s place called Armor Tire and Service Center. They had to wait for the tow truck to get their car to the shop to get new tires. Not to mention the cost. Annabeth knew why Percy was sulking. The creep had vanished after his barely useful piece of advice and left them stranded by the side of the road.

“I hate this town.” Percy said. Annabeth mentally tallied the number of times he’d said that in the past twenty minutes. It came up to six.

“Me too.”

“It blows.”

“Yeah, Percy.”

“Sucks.”

“Yes.”

He made a sound like a raspberry, effectively spitting on the ground, mostly by accident. One of the mechanics glared at them and Percy looked abashed.

“We’re leaving.” She reminded him. Annabeth had decided that the werewolves were informed enough to start on the search for the rogue omega. So, it wasn’t a godly problem. She felt selfish and priggish for suggesting it, but was glad when Percy had agreed to drive away as fast as their new tires could revolve.

“I hope they find it.” She muttered when he didn’t reply.

Percy lifted their entwined hands and wound his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “They will. I like that Scott guy. He’s the only thing that’s good about this place.”  
Annabeth wanted to roll her eyes. Now, he was being dramatic.

“I’m serious! Come’ on, Wise girl. How many times have we met a … you know… monster (he whispered) without them actually being… monstrous? I mean, aside from Tyson, Ella and a handful of others, nobody! And now this guy barges around the place and I just wanna hug him.”

Percy hugged Annabeth and she wondered if he was fantasizing a werewolf in her stead. Not cool. She pushed back with a sly grin.

“Glad you found something to fixate on, Seaweed Brain.”

Percy squawked. “Fixate? Gross Annabeth! Don’t Freudize me!” 

She pulled him back into her arms, feeling rather giggly. “There’s not much left to Freudize with us already being demigods.”

“I hate you. Just as much as this town.”

“Oh hush. We’ll leave in the hour and reach the next county soon I promise, you big baby.”

Percy grinned and furtively looked around them. The mechanic had his back turned towards them. Percy wound his arms around Annabeth and brought her in for a long, languid kiss. Annabeth’s eyes were wide open. She pulled back by an inch and whispered. “Anyone could see!”

“Makes it hot, don’t you think?” His smirk had her turning away to hide her own smile. Percy pressed his face into her neck and blew a quiet raspberry. Annabeth pressed her lips together trying not to giggle, but it was ticklish. She dug her fingers into Percy’s side and chuckled when he nearly jumped from the sudden grazing contact.

“So hot.” She agreed as he mock glared at her.

The entire scene was lazy and sweet, so Annabeth didn’t notice at first when the surroundings went quiet. Suddenly, the hair over her body felt prickly as a cold shiver went down her spine. 

Something was wrong. Percy frowned when he too felt it. Annabeth looked alarmed at the distinction. She had the sudden desire to run. To grab Percy and run as far away as possible. A feeling like that meant that there was an element of immense danger, lingering out of her vision, ready to attack.

“What –” Annabeth said, but Percy’s hand on her arm tightened till it almost hurt. He was staring at the entrance of the shop. Outside, on the opposite side of the main door, stood a hulking creature. Annabeth froze, eyes widening in horror and panic.

She’d read myths on Lycaon. A wolf humanoid who could stand on two feet and hunt down prey like it was a casual sport. The figure outside the door reminded her of that. He didn’t truly look like a wolf, but he wasn’t human. Fur like hair grew around his face in thick sideburns and fangs extended well past his mouth which panted in hunger and frenzy. His eyes were a wicked red, burning into her vision. She noticed sharp claws, partly curved, but made for tearing. She could easily imagine the wolf ripping someone apart.

“Nearly done.” The mechanic called from the inner room, oblivious to the standoff. “Bess’ll get the bill for you.”

The voice made the tense, motionless situation break and the werewolf let out a roar. Annabeth and Percy flinched, but only for a second. By the time the wolf had crashed through the door to reach them, they’d already had their swords out.

…..

Isaac felt a little left out of the conversation while Scott and Allison exchanged theories. Lydia had her marble chiselled expression that she usually reserved for judging newcomers at school. Or losers. 

He averted her gaze from the trio to look back at the house where the guy had been looking out from before. He wasn’t now, but Isaac wondered if he had something to do with it.

He lifted his head and focused on the house. The wind was in his favor. He could smell the concentrated spots on the porch where Allison and Lydia had stood talking to the guy. 

And he could smell him too. It was a strange and very familiar muddy and grainy smell of sweat that he could sense. Isaac frowned and sniffed, flashing his eyes when he recognized the scent.

“Isaac?” Scott’s voice pierced through the wolf cloud and his vision became less red. He looked down at the three of them, watching him curiously.

“What is it?” Scott asked. He had the right mixture of worry, touchiness and helplessness. Isaac wanted to aid and defer to him at the same time.

“Scent. The scent of the man in that house. I know him. It’s familiar. The scent I mean.”

“You know him?” Lydia asked incredulously. “Did Stiles talk about him? Did you see him around the station?”

Lydia was staring with her sweet green eyes that no longer looked sweet. Isaac felt a weird pang of fear and almost laughed at himself for being wary of a tiny human. He remembered when he used to have a crush on her. Nothing galaxy-sized like Stiles, but the way any other person had a high school crush. She was out of his league, unattainable and perfect. Now, he knew that she wasn’t perfect. Technically, she wasn’t out of his league now but she still felt unattainable to him because he’d never honestly seen Lydia Martin so bothered about any other than herself.

“Er… yes. He used to work during the day at the cemetery. Massett, I think. We barely saw each other, but he was always there when I clocked in after evening. I guess he took the night shift after... I left.”

“Is he a werewolf?” Allison’s question almost made no sense. It felt so entirely out of context that Isaac took some time to regain his footing.

“No way. You couldn’t smell a more human person if you tried. He always had this smell of ink, very human blood and mud. Not so much ink now… but still… definitely ordinary.”

Scott frowned, looking like he just couldn’t work it out. “Maybe Stiles thought that he killed his dad? Massett may have had motive. If you smell human blood really closely, then it was probably that –”

“He was bleeding.” Allison surmised. “You think his dad was beating him up?”

Lydia looked at the house. “He looked like he could fight back. Maybe it was an accident where he did strike back but ended up killing his father?”

Scott looked worried, "The report said that it was a case of accidental domestic death."

Isaac didn’t like the speculation. As far as he knew the guy, Massett had been dutiful and quiet, not really the murderous or vengeful guy. He’d make the occasional small talk and knew how to keep it from being awkward. But he’d seen bruises once or twice on the arms when the sleeves were rolled up. It was rare, but Isaac knew what it was like to hide under large hoodies and he didn’t want to make a fuss, so he’d kept quiet. It was strange. Seeing a man in his twenties being submissive to his father was more than just odd, it was downright horrific.

A familiar tone of footsteps were heard and Isaac turned at the same time as Scott.

“Derek and Jackson.” Scott said and the girls turned towards where they were looking into the forest. A minute later the trees parted and the friendliest werewolves emerged from the woods. They didn’t look surprised when they saw the four teens on the road.

“What did you find?” Scott asked immediately. Derek frowned, opting to look at the house where Massett was. Jackson caught Lydia’s eye and said, “Found two bodies. Or could have been one. The mess was unbelievable. And Stilinski’s trail was there too, we tracked it here.”

Allison exhaled roughly. Isaac turned towards Derek. “Stiles parked the jeep here and went to that house to talk to the kid there. And then… what? You’re saying he went for a stroll in the forest and found two bodies?”

“And what about Peter? Where does he figure into all this?” Lydia asked, her voice faltering for a second on his name.

Derek shook his head. “As far as I can tell, Stiles did go into the forest but of his own volition.”

“You don’t know what Peter did?”

“I didn’t say that.” Derek scowled at Allison. “Peter’s scent was in the jeep, not on the trail. Either he said something that made Stiles want to go into the forest, or something else caught his attention.”

“If Stilinski knew that there were dead things out there, that would make him go.” Jackson muttered.

Isaac immediately saw Scott’s eyes flicker gold–orange(?) He frowned. He could feel the group even more tense than usual. 

Lydia looked ready to chastise Jackson, but they stopped when a howl ripped through the air. It was loud, long and filled with pain. It sent several birds careening towards the sky. 

Isaac immediately growled. It was an unfamiliar call. An unknown wolf. Probably the omega.

Derek’s eyes turned red and he immediately ran back into the woods. Isaac, Scott and Jackson followed. They howled in retaliation. Isaac’s legs were longer, so he could overtake Scott and Jackson and race neck and neck with Derek. They leaped around the greenery with ease, taking a new route that deviated from Stiles’ path and headed towards the west.

“It must be one of the rogue wolves.” Jackson called.

“One of?” Isaac asked, confused. They were barely breathless, still running towards where the cry had emerged from.

Behind them, at least two miles away, an answering howl came from the forest. A second unknown werewolf.

The four of them slowed down for a second, but Derek growled, “This way,” and kept running in the original direction. 

Isaac looked towards Scott who’d put on a burst of speed, nearly passing Derek as they reached their destination. It was a slightly less used space as compared to the usual roads. The deserted area held one abandoned store and a mechanic’s shop. The smell of blood, blood of a werewolf, was strong. Isaac could also hear four heartbeats in the shop.

Derek ran through the hole in the main door. Glass bits dangled from the edges, but none of them bothered when they came open the disaster zone in the building.

Tools, desks and vehicle parts were strewn all over the floor. Several light fixtures were broken and two cars had been pushed up against the wall, one of them sporting an impressive shape of a person. There were a couple of steels pipes sticking out of the plaster and walls with water dripping from them into a puddle. A large part of the opposite wall was soaked.

Derek pushed aside one of the over fallen desks and Isaac saw a man and a woman cowering behind it. The man let out a whimper while the woman shivered silently, staring at them in panic.

Scott crossed the floor and went into the inner work space. Isaac followed him and the first thing they saw was a head. A guy’s head on the floor, beside a wrench. His body was a dozen feet away near the corner. Arterial spray was heavy in the room and the blood stank of sweat and wolf. In the other corner, the couple with swords were panting, leaning against the wall, covered in scratches. The blond girl’s arm looked broken and the guy looked concussed, his body swaying like a drunk.

“Shit.” Jackson said, summing up what everyone was thinking.

There was a crash behind them and they swivelled, ready for an attack. A blur emerged, stopping in front of them. Isaac didn’t recognize the newcomer. She was a werewolf. She was in her beta form, growls originating from her chest as she caught the sight of the beheaded wolf. She fell to her knees, howling in rage and pain, misery hitting every one of them. Isaac backed away, nearly stumbling into Jackson.

Surprisingly, Erica and Boyd followed the girl into the shop. They stopped when they saw Derek and Isaac.

“Though you were leaving.” Jackson said. Isaac punched him in the arm and Jackson immediately swiped his claws, raking into Isaac’s hand.

Derek growled at them when Isaac was about to react. Scott caught his hand and pulled him back.

“What the hell?” Erica mumbled as she looked at the state of the shop and the blood in the adjoining room.

The girl, omega, who’d collapsed to her knees suddenly growled. Her blue eyes bled into red, her fangs suddenly seemed sharper and stronger and she stood facing Derek, sensing him to be the greatest threat. Isaac immediately took several steps back as did Jackson and Erica. Scott looked alarmed.

“Wait.” Boyd said. The girl turned and roared at him. All the betas cringed, lowering their heads. 

Derek glared at her. “You better reign it in –”

The girl looked in no fit state to talk. She growled and ran towards him, claws and fangs at the ready.  
She was not experienced. Derek was. Within a few seconds, he had her pinned to the concrete which broke when he slammed her down. She looked feral, snapping her jaws at him.

Derek roared. It felt like the foundations of the shop shook. Isaac backed into the inner room and saw the couple staring at the fight, tired bit still alert. They held their swords as though ready for battle and Isaac couldn’t understand how they could even do that. The weapons looked like they weighed ten pounds each.

Isaac turned back towards Derek when he heard the girl sob. She’d snapped out of the feral phase and curled up on the floor, practically screaming into her palms.

A car screeched to a stop outside. Allison and Lydia got out, somehow having been able to follow them to the mechanic’s. Or maybe they’d heard the roars.

It took a while, but they were able to get the girl out of the shop and into the forest. Scott helped the couple get their car from the shop, while Allison pulled out her phone to call the cops. It was a messy circumstance with a dead body in the room and two more in the woods. Even as they watched the couple do more magic to make the mechanic owners forget about the fight, a cruiser stopped in front of the shop.

Isaac saw Allison frown. “I haven’t call them yet.” She said. Then, her face went pale.

Scott’s head shot up from where he was crouched, nudging out dents in the couple’s car. Isaac stared as the others looked on in shock.

“How – ?” Jackson said, wide eyed. Lydia clapped her hands over her face. Annabeth gasped while Percy swore spectacularly.

Their reactions were justified. The cruiser belonged to the Sheriff and two people stepped out, namely the Sheriff and Stiles.

The not-dead boy’s shoulders slumped. “I could’ve run faster than your driving. See, everything’s over.”

…..

Scott kept a hand on Stiles’ elbow for the rest of the day. Nobody complained, least of all Stiles (wow, dude, you smell nice!)

It was rare, but it did happen. If an Alpha’s claws were deep enough, the scratch could turn a human into a shape-shifter. Jackson rolled his eyes, though, and muttered about the wasted drama but he was quickly silenced by the new Alpha who glared at anyone who smiled. 

Hyun’s brother’s demise was traumatic and she was holding it together through sheer will. Scott knew that had Derek not been there to intercept, she would have avenged her brother by killing the couple. Or at least attempting to. It wasn’t like they were totally helpless. They’d taken down an out of control alpha werewolf along with half the building on their lonesome. Scott had no idea what they really were, but he had a feeling that he’d rather not know.

“Amazonian warriors.” Stiles whispered.

“What?”

“That’s what those two are. Like the Amazons.”

Scott felt like crying every time Stiles did something so… Stilesque. It reminded him of what he’d lost, what he could have lost and what he’d gotten back through sheer luck.

“Amazons? Aren’t they just female?”

“Not necessarily! There are lots of versions of those myths. I read about this one village that had a pact with the Amazons solely for procreation and combing forces for battles. I bet the blonde’s from the female Amazon tribe and the guy’s from the male tribe. May be it’s like a love story that got really serious. The ultimate cliché. Very drab but still super. Cupid must have gotten them and their tribes exiled them or something. No, wait. The tribes would have executed them. They’re running. Coolsies. You think they’ll invite us to the wedding. I’m betting their plan is to elope.”

God, Scott couldn’t stop smiling. He pulled Stiles into a one armed hug. “Whatever you say, Stiles.”

“Come on, Scotty. Think about it!” Stiles urged holding up his hands as though ready to weave a story out of them. “It totally makes sense! Why would they be carrying around swords of all things? Why not guns, rifles, missiles? They’re trained to fight monsters. They’re born warriors. And don’t even tell me that they don’t smell funky to you. The dude smells like the ocean. Like, honest to god, the ocean! Not even the synthetic and chemical sea breeze or crap, but real, proper ocean air. And his girlfriend calls him Seaweed Brain. Get it?”

“It’s just a nickname.”

“Nuh uh. Nicknames are done in jest. These are Amazonian warriors! These are code words. I bet Seaweed Brain is a trigger or a cipher or something so that they can communicate in the presence of outsiders.”

Scott shook his head, unthinkingly leaning in to sniff at Stiles. His scent was a little different. The human quality had been diminished and there was an enhanced streak of restlessness mixed with surplus energy and natural odour.

Stiles leaned in as well sniffing at Scott. “Du-huuude! Seriously, why do you smell good? I can smell sweat. Why is sweat good?”

“I’ll teach you.” Scott said earnestly. “I’ll teach you about the scents, about tracking and hunting. And ooh! Running! And I smell good because I’m happy and relieved.”

Stiles wrinkled his nose and sniffed again. “That’s your happy smell? I like it. Happy smells good. Like … dust and hugs.”

Scott laughed. It was difficult to describe the new senses. It wasn’t easy to relate it to human sensations because it didn’t match. Relativity was sensitive. The closest he could come to describing his enhanced perceptions of chemo signals was though abstract concepts of emotions and the occasional odd object like books or lawn mowers.

He hugged Stiles and they were in no hurry to leave each other’s company. They stood up as the others got ready to leave. Stiles’ dad had to call the station to report about a ‘burglary’ at the mechanic’s and before that, every single werewolf and teen needed to disappear.

“Dad, I’ll be at Derek’s. I know everything sounds so screwed up –”

“It’s okay.” The Sheriff told his son, his eyes looking suspiciously misty. “I’ll wrap it up here. You kids can get out of here.”

Scott could feel immense relief that the man exuded every time he stared at Stiles. He knew how that felt. 

Derek, keeping an eye on Hyun, nodded towards the betas. Then he escorted her back into the woods, probably to see her off their territory. Scott knew that she’d killed two humans. Jackson had explained how they’d found the bodies a while away from the suburbs. It felt wrong to let her off, but there was nothing they could actually do. She’d been feral when she had attacked them and it was technically not her fault…

Scott shifted his focus back to Stiles. It was easy for now, to forget about justice and right and wrong. It would take a while for the news to die down. Nearly half the town thought that he was dead. They’d have to start spreading rumors of that being a hoax, otherwise, he’d actually have to leave Beacon Hills or stay underground for the rest of his life. It wouldn’t be easy.

“How do you do this?” Stiles asked as they got into the Camaro. He was staring at his claws that he seemed to not be able to retract.

Scott spent the whole ride coaching him. He saw Isaac and Jackson watch them in the mirrors and he knew that situations like this (that involved coming back from the dead because Stiles was the third person to do that, that they knew of) would be of the norm now. Mentally preparing himself for what was coming, Scott leaned back and watched as Stiles eyes flashed gold every now and then as he learnt to retract his claws and fangs.

“So… you gonna tell us what you were doing in the forest at night in the first place?” Jackson asked, not too politely.

“Yeah, and what was with Peter?” Isaac chimed in.

Stiles groaned. “The creep was useless. Yeah, I was looking in on something –”

“A domestic accidental death?” Isaac asked, quoting Scott from before.

“It was so not accidental!” Stiles argued. “I have a nose for things like this. It sounded suspicious. The whole thing smelled suspicious. It even tasted too suspicious for me! I don’t like suspicious.”

“So you decided to go alone and got yourself killed.” Jackson snorted.

“You’re one to talk! Who the hell died twice and came back? Not me!”

“It wasn’t my choice, dick. So shut up.”

“Can’t we just be grateful that things aren’t worse than it could have been?” Scott interrupted them. “Isaac, take a right. Look, we can check in on the house later. Isaac says he knows Massett.”

“Who’s Massett?” Stiles looked puzzled.

Isaac smirked. “Shows what you know. That’s the house you went into, right? To talk to that kid?”

“The kid’s name is Bates. Norman Bates. Not Massett. You get your facts straight, Lahey.” Stiles snapped.

“Massett is his brother.”

“Half brother. I knew that, just not his name. Dylan something.”

“Whatever. I’m getting down here.” Jackson said looking fed up. “Good luck with your investigation. Let me know when you get promoted to Board of Fanged Monsters.”

He got out of the car before Isaac even slowed it to a stop. Jackson slammed the door and arched away.

“Derek would have your hide for belittling his precious!” Stiles yelled.

Scott placed his hand on Stiles’ shoulder, trying to calm him down. It worked to an extent. Behind them, Allison and Lydia were following them in the former’s car. He saw Lydia watch Jackson walk away, but made no move to go after him. 

So maybe things were still shaky and cracked, but they could fix it. They were all more or less on the same page. Maybe now, things would be on the same. The two cars took another turn, heading deeper into the woods. 

“Erica and Boyd aren’t staying, are they?” Stiles asked quietly.

Scott shared a look with Isaac who immediately focused on the dirt path. The car bumped against stray roots as they meandered away from the road.  
It was all quiet till they reached the old Hale house. Scott suddenly caught the smell of something strange. Like a wolf, but more than one. And paint.  
Isaac stopped the car and got out, staring at the front door. The others did the same.

“What is that?” Allison asked, on edge.

The five teens stared at a three pronged pictogram, its arms extended and bent like a spider, painted on the front door. It looked like a pack symbol.

“I guess things are back to normal, huh? Possible threat, imminent death?” Stiles muttered.

…..

Percy and Annabeth pretended to look teary and scared for the cops and the paramedics to fuss over them. Blankets were pulled over their shoulders for shock and Annabeth watched as the officers interviewed the mechanic and his partner about the burglary and vandalism. The story was no one had seen the perpetrators, but many stones had been pelted. There was nothing else to support the weak story.

Annabeth hoped they wouldn’t get arrested. She wanted to leave this town.

“Freakin’ werewolves.” Percy said and she nodded. They'd consumed their respective shares of ambrosia and had healed before half the station had reach the shop.

The Sheriff knew about the supernatural. He also knew that there was something up with Percy and Annabeth, but all he gave them was a frown. Then he declared them as witnesses who didn’t actually witness anything. 

Two of the werewolves had taken the body of the rogue Alpha who’d attacked them. Annabeth doubted it was for a funeral. The less evidence there was of the strange, the better. The best thing to do in such cases was to burn the body, but with fear of discovery, they’d probably decide to bury it.

While the cops helped with their car, Percy grabbed her hand and whispered. “We’re leaving, aren’t we?”

“Yes. Right now.”

“Good. I hate this place. It makes Camp almost normal.”

“Camp is normal.” She murmured, leaning against him.

The Sheriff gave them a green pass, thankfully and all they had to do was write a statement. Under his watchful eye, they later, got into the car and drove away as fast as they could without breaking the sound barrier.

“So, no more road trips, no more strange motels or creepy little sleepy towns, got it?”

“Yeah. It’s not too far from San Francisco.” Annabeth agreed.

Percy’s grip on the wheel caught her attention. “What?”

“Nothing…” He said sounding unsure. “It’s just… well, the eye colors. It’s been bothering me.”

“Whose eye color?”

“Look, I saw the blue eyes, right? And we met that one wolf with blue eyes.”

“Jackson?” Annabeth asked. “Yeah, but it wasn’t him who killed the kid.”

“The kid who turned out to be alive and kicking.” He muttered. “Fine. But still, who else could it have been?”

“The girl.” She said. At his confused look, she clarified. “You know? Hyun? She turned into the alpha after we killed her brother.”

Percy’s jaw tightened. “Her eyes were red.”

“They were blue before.”

He nodded, but still looked unsatisfied. Finally, Annabeth said, “I’m sorry, Percy. Things didn’t turn out the way we wanted, but at least, we’re fine for now. Let’s just enjoy this last leg of the journey. It’s not even two hours.”

Percy nodded, still looking stiff. She held his wrist and sat up straight and they drove away from Beacon Hills. Hopefully, nothing else would interrupt their road trip. It had been interesting… but never again.

“I’m taking the train when I head back.” Percy said.

…..

Peter Hale knew it would be too dangerous to roam about at night when he wasn’t invited. Especially, when there were rumors of the Alpha Pack heading to Beacon Hills. He knew better. They were already here.

So he decided to do this in the backyard of his apartment. It was Bingo night and most of the people were out. If people looked out of their windows, they’d see him starting a small bonfire. 

Well, close, but not really. He arranged the variety of cupcakes in the large brass bowl. Pink Champagne, Almond Vanilla and four other flavors that would definitely impress Mors, the Roman deity – personification of death. A grand golden brush to clean the gods’ wings and exfoliate his feathers and the latest addition of the general Bestiary, not exactly privy to any particular family, was included in the bowl.

Never let it be said that Peter was not ungrateful about those who helped him in his time of need. His way of reawakening from death’s clutches might not be as violent and poetic as Stiles and Jackson’s, but it was still a big deal. And who else would know about a god’s preferences other than demigods. That was more than a stroke of luck, it was fate.  
Peter placed it over the fire and stoked it. A few seconds later, the entire pit blazed, flames hitting the air. He backed away quickly, whispering a short prayer for the god, thanking him for accepting the tribute.


End file.
